The Soul of the Assassin
by MFE2016
Summary: It's been weeks since Loki got to him, turning him into a mindless killing machine and Clint isn't even close to feeling about better about it. Plagued with visions of his actions and the guilt he pulls away and hides in his own dark world to deal with it all himself. He didn't count on some angel with a pretty smile taking pity on him though. Total AU after the Avengers. Clint/OC
1. Chapter 1

So quick authors note. I've written stories before, but never one like this. There are definitely some mature moments in it and if you're not into that stuff, it's probably best to find another fic. Also, this takes place right after The Avengers (2012) so I guess it is pretty AU. No Laura, no farm or kids, just Clint and my original character. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter One

The bar was quiet. A part of Clint welcomed it he guessed, but another wished it was louder. Loud would drown out the sounds in his head. Loud would make the voice shut up. Loud might even distract him enough to get the images out of his head and give him a few seconds of clarity. He had clearly picked the wrong hole in the wall in the city for that though.

Behind the bartender there was a game quietly playing on the TV. He didn't care to make out who it was though. Behind him a group of people were at the pool table, another hung out in a pack at the end of the bar speaking quietly about something. He was left alone. No one knew who he was. He at least had that going for him.

He finished off the beer and asked for another. The bartender said nothing and quickly replaced the empty with a full one. That was when the TV cut the game off and switched to the news. Images of Chitauri aliens, Captain America and Tony Stark flashed across the screen. He sunk uncomfortably in the seat and closed his eyes. "Fuck" he muttered under his breath. The newscaster continued to speak, but Clint's thoughts were quickly going dark on him. His mind began to cloud and he felt himself being pulled under into that cruel, suffocating, hell again. His head pounded, his breath strangled and he felt his mind begin to give in…

"Jesus Brian, change that. It's Friday night for Christ's sake."

The voice came from next to him, and the few irritated words amazingly pulled him out of the deep. He looked to his right and saw his savior was an annoyed looking female with wavy auburn hair. She stared down the bartender with a scowl that would have impressed Nat with its ferocity.

"Just going to come in and take over like that?" the bartender, Brian, reached for the remote and flipped the channel.

"You'll thank me once you get your tips." She shot back and then to Clint's shock, she turned a quick glance to him and gave him a small smile. The small gesture meant so much, he didn't even dwell over the fact that someone had recognized him.

"Whatever. Do you want your usual?"

She turned back and smiled brightly at the guy. "Of course."

Brian the bartender, as Clint now thought of him, rolled his eyes and pulled out a Sam Adams, popping the top off before handing it to the girl. Clearly they knew one another, but Clint got more of a brother and sister vibe from them than he did a romantic one. "Are you here to help close?"

"If you need me to." She took a sip from the bottle. "But it doesn't really look like it."

"Not really. I could use a break though."

She took another drink. "Fifteen minutes."

Brian the Bartender nodded. "Thanks."

The girl took her bottle and walked around to the opening in the bar, while Brian the Bartender walked out through the back door. Clint got a full look at her now under the lights. She was on the small side, thin, but fit and her wavy hair just barely brushed against her toned shoulders. Her eyes were a dark blue, her face heart shaped and her mouth was generous and he already knew her smile was a sweet one. She wore a blue tank top and jeans, informal, but she managed to make it look gorgeous.

When she turned however, giving Clint a good glimpse of profile he found that the jeans weren't just informal, they were fucking perfection. They clung to her long legs in all the right places, including a perfectly round ass that he suddenly ached to get his hands on. Taking a quick drink from his bottle, he shoved the thought away. It was a nice deviation, but sex was the last thing he should be thinking about right now, especially when the girl had just gone out of her way to help him. He continued to watch in silence as she took over behind the bar, finishing off her own beer and wiping down the counter after the customers at the end of it finished off their drinks. She said nothing to him, didn't even look at him, but he sensed it was more for his benefit than for hers.

It was time for him to leave anyway. He took a final sip from his bottle and set it on the bar. Standing, he dug into his back pocket for his wallet, but she was suddenly in front of him, reaching for the empty bottle and shook her head. "Don't worry about it."

"You sure?"

"I would have said it if I weren't." she smiled. "It's fine. Go on."

"Thanks." He turned and was intent on leaving, but something pulled him back. Maybe those four beers were giving him a shot of bravery or stupidity, but he turned back and looked at the girl once more, "And um…thanks for earlier too."

She looked up, not at all shocked by the gratitude. "No problem. My idiot cousin should know better than to put the news on in a bar anyway."

He stepped forward. "The bartender is your cousin?" Yeah, that made sense.

She chuckled. "Yeah, our family owns this place."

Clint glanced at the sign above the bar, needing a reminder of where he was. "Sutton's."

"Erin Sutton." She confirmed to him, holding out a hand over the taps.

Clint took it. "Clint Barton." Forgetting his original idea of leaving, Clint sat back down. "I take it you're not a full time employee here?"

She laughed and leaned against the bar. "Nope. Not since college anyway. I come in on my days off or whenever I need a free drink."

"Or whenever you want to give free drinks to random customers?"

"I wouldn't exactly call you random."

He sighed, knowing he had walked right into that. "I didn't plan on being recognized."

She leaned against the counter and crossed her arms, the soft, kind expression still remaining. "Don't worry, I'm pretty good at keeping secrets."

 _Fuck, she was a sweetheart_.

"Thanks." He didn't want to be noticed, that much was true, but for whatever reason he didn't mind that this girl knew who he was. The fact that she only knew him from whatever pictures had made it on to the internet didn't seem to matter. Her eyes zeroed in on him as they spoke, attentive and warm. She actually gave a damn and seemed fully present in the small talk they were exchanging.

Brian came back in long after his fifteen minutes had been up, but Erin let it slide. Unfortunately, though, it ended their own conversation. Brian playfully shoved Erin out of the way as he washed his hands at the sink. Noticing that the group at the end of the bar had left he asked about his tips. "Great." Erin told him, patting the front pocket of her tight jeans and made no move to produce the bills for him. He cursed under his breath and to Clint's shock, Erin caught his eye and winked at him.

"Looks like drinks are on me tonight. What do you say Clint?"

Recharged at the opportunity to stay around, Clint smiled. It was the first genuine smile he had given anyone in a while.

* * *

New York had changed. Not in the obvious ways you would expect after aliens fell from the sky and tore through the city, though that had happened too. People had become fearful and weak. They began to distress what could come next and that they could never be prepared for it, even with Captain America and Tony Stark on their side. And they had begun to flee. It had been a month now since it all started and still, apartments were packed up, cars and vans loaded down with belongings, their owners going in whatever direction away from the city that felt the safest.

Erin thought that was laughable.

When it came down to it, there probably wasn't a corner in the world where anyone would be safe, why give in to the hysteria when there was nothing that could come of it? She had grown up there. Her very first breath had been taken at St. Mary's and for most of her life she had never lived more than an hour away from there. She had seen a lot since then. Great things, good things and terrible terrible tragedies, but nothing could ever her push her to leave.

The empty trains, the bare streets, the fear in the faces that had stayed; she tried to look passed all of it. They had come back from September 11th, they could come back from this. Fear was what the enemy had wanted, it was how they controlled you whether they were human or alien. It was a thought she had repeated to herself many times over the years and it wasn't one she was going to abandon if she could help it.

She kept up with life as best as she could. Her job at New York Methodist helped. The hours were long and the work was consuming and when she wasn't there, her family's bar was available for distraction. Her Grandpa Jim had opened doors for the first time in 1955 and the business had always been successful. In the seventies he had bought the space above the bar and converted the three floors into apartments, adding to the revenue. When he retired after forty years her Uncle Frank had taken things over, her own father content to be a firefighter at the station two blocks down. Erin began waiting tables and then tending bar after graduating from high school and continued through college. The customers were usually familiar faces and she thought of most like family. When her parents had decided to move upstate, Erin stayed and moved into the top floor apartment. Frank's son Brian, her cousin and really more like a younger brother than anything else, lived on the floor below her and was poised to take things over when his own father retired. Erin was fine with the unspoken arrangement. Brian was good at handling business and people. He was young, twenty-seven, but she saw potential. And apparently Uncle Frank had too. He had left Brian in charge of things when he and Aunt Pat had joined the mass exodus from New York and headed for Colorado. Aunt Pat's anxiety and fear had gotten the best of her too.

Erin had promised to help Brian out if he need came up and so after working a thirteen hour shift at the hospital, she came home, showered, put on a bit of make-up and dressed, going back down the stairs and through the back door that gave easy access to the bar from the apartments. She had assumed that since it Friday the place would be packed.

She was wrong.

The place was virtually empty. She counted ten people in her quick scan of the low ceiling, wood paneled room. She though Sutton's would continue on as it always had despite what had been going on outside. It always had before.

 _Jesus. Thank God Grandpa isn't here to see this._

She swallowed back the pain the blow had dealt her and tried to focus on something, anything, to push through it. She let the door she had come through shut behind her, and moved through the billiards area into the bar. Brian was behind the counter, keeping himself busy, a few people seated around him and the TV on behind him. Clearly he wasn't going to need her help tonight. She could probably go back upstairs and sleep if she wanted to. Somehow that idea didn't really appeal to her though. She moved forward and had come within a foot of the bar when she happened to look to her left and see the hunched over figure seated away from the small group at the other end. A pang of familiarity struck her and she watched as his eyes cut quickly to the TV screen and then go dark, as if a storm was passing over the blue pools. She followed his gaze towards the TV and saw the sloppy camera footage from a cell phone providing the images of aliens racing through the streets and then two figures in black, fighting on behalf of humanity. Both were blurred, but it didn't take Erin more than a moment to identify one; the archer and then place him in that spot at the bar.

She took a quick breath as the pieces came together, knowing now what had caused the clouds to surround him and push him down.

"Jesus Brian, change that. It's Friday night for Christ's sake."

Watching Clint miss the last shot was unbelievably hilarious. Erin burst into laughter watching him stagger back from the table. He had to have been drunker than she was, but he was straight faced as he glared at her. "Think that's funny?"

She laughed harder and nodded. "I expected your accuracy skills to be a bit more on point." She alluded to the archery thing quietly, hoping it didn't bother him.

To her quick relief he smiled at her, definitely more comfortable and open than he had been an hour or so before. "Show me up then, Ace."

"Fine, I will." She laughed.

"Do it then."

Laughing again, her cheeks flushing, she mocked him. "Fine."

Stick in hand, she walked up to the table, positioned herself and let the stick go. Even buzzed she made the shot perfectly. "Oh!" she turned back to him, triumphant.

He was leaning against his chair, shooting a glare at the traitorous balls on the table. "Has to be the beer."

"Nope, just pure talent." She smiled at him and walked around for her next shot. "Don't get too jealous. I can also own your ass at putt-putt."

He cracked a grin. Erin found herself going slightly weak in the knees every time he did that. This whole thing had started because she legitimately felt that he shouldn't be left alone tonight, but the longer she hung out with him, the more fun she had …and the more the atmosphere seemed to heat between them. Taking a deep breath, she bent over the table again and let her shot fly. The result was no where near as good as the previous and when she stood back up she mentally prepared herself to be laughed at. Then she realized he was standing beside her. The air around them suddenly lost the drunken humor as his eyes locked onto hers, his expression sad and sober.

"You don't have to do this." He made the statement in a raw, low voice even though there was no one else around to hear. It came out of left field and struck Erin directly in the heart. The memories of the pain she had felt once herself… undeserving, worthless…were all on display in his bright blue eyes.

With an unsteady hand, Erin allowed herself to reach out toward him, touching arm in a show of affection. It was an added bonus that a shock of fire quickly followed the innocent move. She forced her gaze up and steadied her breath, "Yes, I do."

His breath seemed to hitch at her words and the air between them cracked and burned.

Erin allowed her hand to linger on his arm. The skin beneath her soft touch was hard and muscular. Her pulse began to quicken. She was suddenly dizzy and it had nothing to do with the tequila shots. She gripped his arm tighter, thickening the atmosphere between them, the desire practically spilling over. Trying to get her bearings, she watched Clint's gaze pull back and heard the quick in take of breath as he cursed and then dove towards her.

* * *

Clint hadn't been entirely sure she was in to him until that moment. They had laughed and drank for most of the last few hours and yet the flirting had been kept to a minimum. It hadn't stopped him from admiring that perfect ass of hers every time she bent over the pool table though or feeling like he on top of the world whenever she would flash that smile at him. He had no doubt she had taken pity on him, but rather than it pissing him off, it made him want to push her up on the pool table and devour every inch of her.

He knew he was drunk as his lips moved over hers, though whether it was alcohol or her was another thing entirely. Despite it though, his mind was clear and damn she tasted so good. He swept a tongue between their lips as her arms came around his neck, pulling them closer together. She tasted amazing smelled amazing, hell she felt amazing. He let himself be consumed by it. Too weak to let go of the opportunity of forgetting everything, of feeling normal. His hands came around her waist, traced along the edge of her tight jeans, aching to cup around the perfect ass he hadn't been able to keep his eyes off all night…

"… _Where they at where they at… if you wanna go and take a ride with me…"_

Clint pulled back.

" _We three-wheelin in the fo' with the gold D's…"_

Typically music didn't play in his head when he kissed a woman. Though he liked to think if it did he'd come up with something a bit better than Nelly. . The thought was quickly followed by more music and a random voice singing along

" _Oh why do I live this way…Hey must be the money!"_

He took a quick look around him, hearing the voice continue to rap along with Nelly, but it was the sense that there were fewer people around him than there were the last time he had given the thought attention was what stuck out to him.

"Brian. It's closing time." Erin caught his ear, solving the question for him. "We blast the music while we clean up."

"Nelly?"

"Not always." She chuckled. "I'm partial to the 90s alternative myself. Some Alannis, Gin Blossoms..."

"Chili Peppers."

She smiled. "You've got the idea." As she spoke he found her hand coming up and brush against the back of his neck, fingers running through his hair. He read the signs as clearly if they had been spelled out before him, and went back in for another kiss. He didn't take it slow this time. His mouth came down hard on hers, his lips practically forced hers apart. He sucked on her bottom lip, hands back at her waist, then without another thought, on her ass. She moaned, sending a vibration through his body, and backed herself against the pool table, pulling him along and forcing their bodies closer together.

Her ass definitely felt as great as it looked, firm and round and the tighter he held on, the more she began to move against him. He was straining, painfully, against his jeans as she upped the friction, knowing exactly how to move her hips.

 _Shit…shit…he didn't come here for this…_

He didn't know how much she had had to drink, but apparently, it was enough to give her a good dose of bravery. She didn't seem to care that her cousin was one open wall away from them. The song from the other side of the bar changed. Sabatoge by the Beastie Boys, better than Nelly. Clint broke from her lips and went to her neck, tracing the slope with his tongue and down to her sweet collarbone and then down as far as her tank top would allow. She gripped his neck, moaning against the licks. Shit he wanted more. His finger hooked into the blue strap of the shirt and he began to pull it down, revealing a white lacy bra beneath the fabric.

"Wait." She gasped, her hand coming over his to stop him.

Clint's heart slammed hard against his chest at the words and he pulled back. He tried to catch his breath as he waited for her to shut it all down.

"I live upstairs." She then said, licking her swollen lips.

"What?"

She slid off the table and rose up on toes to give him a slight peck on his own lips before taking his hand and leading him towards a door on the back wall. He grabbed his jacket on the way.

He didn't pay much attention to anything else except her as they walked up two more flights of stairs. The apartment she finally pulled him into was dark, but he had her back in his arms as soon as the door had clicked shut behind them, throwing his jacket down on the floor all in one fast moment.

His lips pressed against hers, tongues swirled together. Letting something else take over, he moved, pinning Erin against the wall opposite the door, grabbing her ass through her jeans and then slipping his hands up under her shirt, feeling the soft naked skin of her back. Warm and soft, he couldn't resist moving to her waist and her stomach before moving them upwards and pulling the damn shirt off all together.

Her bra was definitely white lace and it fit and presented her breasts so damn perfectly he could barely form a coherent thought looking at her. His hands aching to touch her, he came back at her, pushing her even more tightly against the wall and lifting her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he braced himself with one hand against the wall and the other slipping aside the bra and cupping the firm softness under it. Erin moaned under his touch, wordlessly begging for more. She was totally spread to him, her hips moving in small circles on him. Clint wanted to rip away the remaining barriers between them and have the freedom to kiss her entire body. He needed her in the bed. Now.

His lips brushed against her neck and to her ear, "Bedroom?"

She pointed to a door before cupping his face in her hands and kissing him hard on the lips. He didn't break the kiss as he moved away from the wall. He held her tightly and went towards the door, nudging it with his foot to open it. The bedroom was dark too, only the lights of the city from an open window in the corner made the room visible enough for him to navigate himself towards the bed. He set her down on it and she pulled him down with her as laid back, inviting his hands to explore her body now with more freedom. He undid the front clasp of her bra, and ran his tongue and teeth in gentle, seductive movements over her bare tits. Soft sweet moans escaped her lips and she arched up against him, begging for more.

Her hands ran through his hair and down his shoulders and arms, gripping the hard muscular skin beneath. The touches heated his body. With his mouth on one nipple, she suddenly grabbed his hand and placed it between her thighs. Clint quickly took the hint, rubbing her core, making her gasp and moan into the darkness. His erection was straining against his own jeans now and hearing the sounds she made and watching her writhe under his touch was just making it worse.

Impatient now, he brought his lips back up, brushing them against her neck once more and began to undo the belt at her waist. Her hands came down to help him and they soon had the pants undone and she was lifting her hips off the bed to take them off. Long, toned legs appeared barely visible in the darkness. Before he had a chance to touch her however, her own hands were coming towards him, undoing his own jeans and inviting him to stand and take them off. In a flash he had everything off and was back down on top her, pressing her into the mattress with his weight. His erection pressed hard against her stomach and she reached for him, running her hands down the length of it and nearly sending him over the edge.

He had a whole plan of ripping her blue panties off with his teeth and tasting the sweetness he was sure was between her thighs, but between the alcohol and the sex drought he had been in for the last few months, he knew he wouldn't make it that far. The night was young, right? They could fit that in later. He mumbled for a condom between kisses and teasing fingers on her nipples and let her break away for a moment to reach for her nightstand and pull one out of the drawer. He watched as she tore it open herself and then pushed him onto his back. He had to grit his teeth as she took him in her hands and gently rolled it down over him.

"Do that a lot?" he asked, desperate for a break in the tension before he lost it in front of her.

She laughed softly, her gorgeous eyes twinkling mischievously in the dark before she leaned down and kissed him. Still holding him down with some invisible force, she then straddled him, sat up and positioned herself over him. Her movements came so fluidly, feeling her come around him, tight and hot, was almost surprising.

"God, Erin!"

Feeling him fill her, her lips moved in silent pleasure. She rolled against him and Clint quickly found the rhythm, thrusting back up into her. His hands found her hips and he gripped them tightly as she began to move faster. Hot and slick, she moved over him easily and clenched around him with every forward motion. His mind was overwhelmed and everything from the last month was pushed out. It was only Erin then, Erin and this moment.

Her breaths began to come faster and she gripped his arms as her movements began to change, the pace becoming faster. Her eyes closed and he knew she was close. He could feel her tighten around him and in a sudden move, possessed by the need to feel her come underneath him, he pulled her down and rolled her over. Pumping inside of her with deep hard thrusts, his hand moved between them and he quickly found what he was looking for. Rubbing her with a soft thumb, he watched as she tossed her head back, moaning into all corners of the dark bedroom as the orgasm hit her. It crashed into her like a strong wave and she gripped the bed sheets, her entire body beginning to shake under him.

The vibrations and the way she tightened like a vice around him were too much for Clint to bear and it was only seconds after she came back down that his thrusts became deeper and faster and he exploded inside of her. She still managed to meet his thrusts, holding tightly to him as he lost himself in her, moaning and sighing her pleasure and satisfaction.

He felt something almost like regret when he pulled out of her, but quickly brushed it aside. He got rid of the condom, his head swimming in post sex euphoria and beer and he found himself laying down on the bed beside her. She seemed lost in her own mind, her eyes half shut, but she still had enough energy to turn towards him and silently invite him to put his arm around her. He did so without thinking, his breaths still erratic and his heart banging inside of his chest. His mind was still void of all the bullshit. No aliens, no Loki, no Nat looking at him in disappointment, no one at SHIELD turning away from him in disgust and fear. Maybe tonight he would actually sleep. It had been awhile since he done that…


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

A loud pounding pulled Erin out of her sleep. Only slightly hungover, she sat up and grimaced at the bright light streaming in through her bedroom window. Burying her face in her hands she shook her head against the echo of the noise in her head. She hadn't had THAT much to drink last night…

 _Last night?_

She lifted her head only slightly and saw Clint still passed out in her bed. Wrapped up in her Ikea down comforter, his sleep was heavy and sound if his breathing was any indication and he showed no sign of being disrupted by her sudden movement or the pounding that was again echoing around her.

 _Jesus._ She focused on her head once more. Seriously, what the hell? She had drank a lot the night before, but definitely not enough for a literal pounding headache. And then the pounding came again. Only this time she realized it wasn't her head.

"Erin! Open up!"

 _It was Brian._

Forgetting everything, Erin quickly got up, grabbing a pair of shorts and a tank top out of the basket of clean clothes by her bed and ran for the door before the noise woke Clint. She ran a quick hand through her messy hair as she left the bedroom, shutting the door behind her and was greeted with another knock, louder and more persistent than the previous just as she reached the door, still pulling on her shirt.

"Shut up!" she hissed, unlatching the lock and pulling the door open.

Brian strolled in fresh as a daisy, wearing khakis, v-neck shirt and his Yankees cap covering his light brown hair. He carried a paper tray of Starbucks in his hand and as the scent of coffee filled the room, he turned to her with a "WTF look" on his face. "What the hell? I've been out there forever."

"Maybe you should have gotten the hint and left after the second knock." She grumbled, still holding the open door.

"Ha! No way Air Bear." He used her childhood nickname with a mocking tone that made her want to slap him. "Where did you go last night? I thought you were still back at the pool table when I closed, but when I went back to check you were gone." He started for the couch, coffee in hand and before Erin could stop him he was sitting down and pulling the cups out of the tray.

Trying to ignore the lure of the coffee, Erin stepped forward. "This isn't a good time."

"Oh man, that guy. Did you leave with him?" he flashed a grin. "C'mon you can tell me."

Erin groaned and then cursed.

"Don't be a bitch, Erin. I need some drama to go with my coffee."

Erin crossed her arms, her headache returning, her irritation rising. "I can't right now, okay? I need to sleep more."

"I've got coffee here for your hangover, now come on, tell me."

"Brian, just go home!" It felt like there was a jackhammer to her temples now and just as she swore to herself that once she was better she was going to make sure her cousin died a crude and horrible death, she caught sight of the bedroom door opening. Clint stood there, shirtless, but thankfully wearing his jeans. He looked like he had been ruthlessly pulled from his sleep too and seemed slightly confused over what was going on in the living room.

To his credit, Brian shut up immediately. Erin could hear the silent cursing in his head, but it did little to alleviate her own embarrassment. He turned to her after a moment, "You could have said something." He hissed.

She glared at him, wishing there was something to grab in her vicinity to throw at him.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to…." Brian now addressed Clint, lost for words apparently "I'm Brian, Erin's uh, very embarrassed cousin." He stood and stepped forward with a hand stretched out.

"Oh right. Brian the Bartender." Clint spoke, his voice hoarse. He gave Brian's hand a half assed shake and Erin guessed he was probably as tired and aggravated as she was.

Brian gave an uncomfortable laugh at the nickname and stuffed his hands back in his pockets. "Yeah, yeah Brian the Bartender. I'm really sorry about this, it's just…um…well Erin doesn't have sex all that often so…" he tried and failed at making the joke.

Erin had no words. She stared at him, her mouth agape and just couldn't…even! Jesus Christ, she was going to kill him. She was going to throw him out the window right now and watch him pancake on the sidewalk below. That was it. She would gladly wear prison orange for the rest of her life if it meant shutting Brian's unfiltered mouth!

Clint, thankfully, said nothing in reply, but the tension in the air quickly skyrocketed and filled the room. The three of them stood there for painful long seconds just staring at the other. Thankfully Brian still seemed to possess enough sense to realize he needed to get the hell out of there before things got any worse.

"Yeah, well, um, so I've got to get going." He grabbed one of the cups of coffee from the coffee table. He turned to Clint "It was good to meet you…again… and Erin, uh, I look forward to you killing me for this later."

"Good." Was all she could say. She barely let him walk out of the door before slamming it behind him. He had left his mark though, the air in the room was think and painfully awkward and with nothing else to stand between them, Clint's attention rested on her.

"I am so sorry." She finally said, though it didn't seem near enough appropriate for the situation.

"It's fine."

She gulped back, crossing her arms over her chest, suddenly excruciatingly aware of how naked she was underneath the clothes she had hastily pulled on. It probably didn't help that he was half naked himself. The whole thing trapped her into silence and she could do nothing but stare back at him with silent apology.

"I had to get up anyway." He said after she failed to reply, "I usually don't sleep so late." She watched as he took a quick look around the room and then located his t-shirt and jacket, both laying exactly where they had been thrown the night before. He slipped the shirt on and pulled his phone out of his pocket of his jacket, giving it a quick glance before looking back at her.

She had to say something. "Look, I um, I don't do this really." Obviously. Brian had just outed her nonexistent sex life for the whole world to hear. "I mean, um…" she sighed, pissed at herself, mentally screaming at her brain to get its shit together and fast.

"Yeah, I don't do it either." His reply was somewhat comforting. "Can't say I regret it though." He took a good shot at breaking the tension, even offering her a smile as the words came out, but it only resulted in a moment's respite and soon they were back to staring at one another like the strangers they really were.

She took a breath. "Should I give you my number?" That's what people did in these situations right? Shit she was 30 years old and didn't know how to handle this at all. Boyfriends she had had. Sex, yep had that too, but this one night stand thing was completely foreign.

She looked on after she said the words, watching his expression. His mouth stayed straight, his jaw ticked slightly, but his eyes, the bright blue pools that had made her weak in the knees the night before, gave away inner conflict. He wanted to say something, but was definitely at a loss on what to say.

"Um…probably not."

Her heart plummeted.

"It's not because I'm an asshole." he quickly followed, "I don't want you to think I used you or anything, because I didn't, but I'm not the kind of guy you want around."

"Okay." She didn't know what else to say.

Clint's guilt or whatever seemed to get the best of him then and he crossed the slight distance between them, giving her front row seats to his ashamed and conflicted gaze. "Please don't think I used you."

"I don't." she replied softly and truthfully.

He sighed heavily as if he didn't believe her. "Last night was the first time in weeks that I've felt normal. Everything that's happened…"he stopped and took a breath. Erin actually thought he might break down in front of her. "Just…you know what you saw on TV or wherever? Seeing it and living it, it's different and I—"

"You don't have to explain it."

"No, I do."

"You really don't." she assured him, coating the words in as much honesty as she could muster. "I don't think you're lying and I don't think you used me. I believe you, so believe me. You don't have to explain."

It took him a moment, a long moment where he seemed to take in her words and find the truth in them, but he finally nodded. For a brief second it looked like he was going to say more to her, but Erin watched as his lips parted and then shut. He nodded again, this one final and turned towards the door. Two steps behind Erin followed him, stopping as she reached the threshold, her hand on the knob. The moment wasn't done. It was going to eat at her all day unless she finished it now. "Hey." She suddenly said, stopping him before he made the turn in the hallway towards the stairs. "Want some advice? Fight it, don't ever let it take you over." She paused and then added, "You're stronger than you think you are."

He stared at her. Erin wasn't sure what to make of the silence at all. She was sure it was something he had needed to hear, in fact she would bet her life on it. Even as the silence continued she didn't waver from her decision to say it. He was so hard to read. It was clear he had put some work into training his face to not give away his emotions. Suddenly though, he broke into step and was in front of her…and kissed her. He had caught her off guard, but the softness of his lips and the intensity of the move held her steady. His hand threaded through her hair, cupping the back of her neck and holding her close to him, but she only managed a slight caress of her hand against his rough cheek before he pulled back.

He allowed himself to linger in the electric atmosphere for a long moment, before pulling back once more. "Bye Erin."

She forced a small, short lived smile. "Bye."

Clint stepped out on the street and ignored the pain that shot into his head once the sunlight hit his eyes directly. He cursed, gritted his jaw and started down the sidewalk in strong, guilt heavy steps. He was pissed at himself. Jesus Christ, how had he let his guard down like that? Random sex with a random woman from a bar, what in the hell? He wasn't twenty-five anymore., shit he wasn't even in his right mind anymore. He could hold his own. He wasn't stupid when it came to drinking and he knew his limit and knew he hadn't been anywhere near it last night. There was no excuse for his behavior.

She was gorgeous, though that had pulled his attention towards her first, but then everything else…She had understood, she had listened, she knew who he was and didn't turn away from him in disgust like everyone else he knew did these days. She had offered an escape. She had given him some break from the hell. He felt normal again with her. He felt normal and uncomplicated and not at all like the monster he now saw himself as with her.

Erin had let him touch her, kiss her and she hadn't pulled away in revulsion.

"Yeah, asshole" he thought to himself "Because she doesn't know everything."

The realization hit him hard and he found himself stopping in mid-step, shaking with the brutal reality. He stepped off to the side, enclosing himself in an alley between two walls and several dumpsters and tried to breathe. His eyes closed, his head filled with a painful, ear piercing screech that grabbed hold of him and gnawed at his brain like a wild animal. His chest burned, his heart beat rapidly and then froze to a stop, throwing him back against the brick wall. He grunted in pain, clutching at his chest, his head…fuck, his head. His stomach turned…the sound of an arrow, and another…a guard down, he never saw it coming, and then another, falling…eyes…

He gagged and slumped over, unleashing the contents of his stomach on the ground beneath him. No one noticed. People walked by, but probably assumed he was just another drunk, he wanted that invisibility though. Swallowing the bitter taste back he fell off his feet and collapsed against the dumpster. He took several deep breaths, grasping at some kind of clarity, trying to control and fight.

 _Fight._

" _Fight it, don't ever let it take you over. You're stronger than you think you are."_

 _Erin._

He could go back. He could walk the two blocks back and she would probably open the door for him, no questions asked. What was that thing she said to him at the end? Like she had been here, like she could actually see what he was going through without actually knowing? That had gotten to him probably more than anything else. He had felt pulled into kissing her after that and God help him he had almost stayed then too. Almost picked her up, taken her back into the apartment and continued where they had left off the night before, before daylight or that cousin of hers had come into the picture. He couldn't do it though. He wouldn't do it. She spoke to him like she understood, but she had no idea and he wanted to make sure she never did.

Sighing, he got up, his legs shaking and swallowed. Calling himself an idiot again, he moved back out onto the sidewalk and began walking in the opposite direction of Erin.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

The next night, Clint stared at his phone screen. Hunkered down into the cheap, piece of shit hotel room he had deemed safe enough on the whim that he had fled, he stared at the bright screen, letting his finger hover over the text box on the screen.

" _Where are you?" "Why won't you answer me?"_

There were several like that. All received, none replied to. The texts had become more desperate as time had gone on. The voice emails were even worse. Natasha's usually level tone had gone from worried to angry in the week it had been since he had fled and he knew it would only get worse.

So far she was the only one that had tried to contact him. Whether she was the only one that cared to or if she had told Fury and his minions to leave it to her was something Clint wasn't quite sure of though. Even before everything that had happened Clint didn't have friends at SHIELD. There were people he knew, people he knew better than others, but they weren't friends. He didn't form bonds like that, there just wasn't much of a point. Nat was different though. Nat made sure she was different…

He looked back at his screen, tapping it to illuminate the words again.

" _Hawk, call me"_

There were two sides to that woman. The caring side. That was the side someone would see if they just happened to glance at his phone and see the text messages. The caring side was also the one that worried, the one that made you spend holidays together, the one that made sure you had all of vaccinations before you left the country and the one that would rip the world apart to rescue you from a Norse "God" who had control of your mind and was hell bent on destroying the fucking universe. Then there was the more calculated side. That was the one who would disguise some computer virus or whatever in a worried text message. A virus that would alert her to your location within a two mile radius if you replied and have you back at SHIELD HQ in handcuffs before your phone could go to "lock screen". Clint knew both all too well and he wasn't going to chance it. Not tonight. Not when he still had a decent enough stock pile of Jack on the dresser.

Reminded of that fact he pulled his hand away from the phone and reached across the table for the half empty bottle. He took a swig from it, not even bothered by the sharp burning of the liquid pushing itself down his throat anymore. Probably a bad sign, but eventually it would do what it needed and he would become too drunk to care or he would pass out. He didn't really prefer one result over the other. Both would numb him, both would silence his mind and that was all he really wanted. Getting shit faced was the only thing that worked.

 _Well…that wasn't really true…_

For the thousandth time in the past half hour his mind drifted to Erin.

"Fuck." He muttered, closing his eyes, his mind filling with a sick feeling of regret. She wouldn't go away and she needed to. She needed to get the fuck out of his brain before he did something stupid like go back to her. He couldn't even blame it on how good she had been in bed. It wasn't the image of her naked on top of him that was burned into his mind, it was her smile. The one she had given him when she first spoke to him, the one that made her eyes light up and her cheeks go pink. He felt so at ease when she had done that. He craved that feeling again and yeah, he wanted her again. The sex may not have been at the forefront of his mind, but that had been mind blowing too. Having her in arms after, lulling him into a sleep where his dreams weren't full of the screams of his victims was also fucking nice.

On a whim, he reached for his phone again. He brought up a browser window and typed in her name, the letters beginning to blur in his inebriation. A Facebook page came up and he scrolled through about twenty Erin Sutton's before he saw a picture that matched the one in his head. It was a private page. Only set to show her profile picture, her location and the fact that she female. The picture was enough though. Some selfie with her and a friend, both were in scrubs in what looked like a hospital. Her hair was longer than it had been the night before, but still the practically red shade he remembered. Feeling like some insane stalker he clicked the arrow that took him to another picture, this one just of her in what he knew to be Air Force ABUs with captain insignia's. She hadn't said anything about being in the military.

He gulped. The knowledge that he just peered into her life uninvited was a bit too much for him and he quickly exited out of the browser. He grabbed the bottle again and took another long drink. And then another. He pushed himself up from the table and practically staggered to the bed while taking another drink. Bringing up the phone again, he found his music and scrolled through it until he found what he was looking for.

" _Chili Peppers?"_ he remembered asking. She had smiled that smile at him then " _You've got the idea."_

He clicked on the song he wanted and set the phone down on the nightstand. Taking another long drink from the bottle and draining it, he let himself fall on the dirty blanket as the sound of "Soul to Squeeze" filled the room.

" _I've got a bad disease. Up from my brain is where I bleed…"_

 _Fuck everything_ , he thought before the darkness came on, _Bring on the fucking blackout._

* * *

Two days later, Erin pulled open her locker door and yanked her name tag off from around her neck, stuffing it in the bag she had thrown in there twelve hours before. She bit her lip, holding back the self made bomb of exhaustion and stress that wanted to explode within her and reached in for her jeans and t-shirt. Sitting down on the bench beside her locker, she pulled on her shoes and tied them with swift hands. Stuffing the dirty scrubs in the provided bin, she then washed her hands, grabbed her bag, slammed her locker shut and started out the door.

It was after midnight and she had been at the hospital since lunchtime. She was beyond exhausted. she wanted to go home, crawl into bed and stay there for the next week. She probably wouldn't have much luck with that though.

The floor was quiet when she came out of the locker room, the only sound coming from the nurses' station a few doors down. She could hear laughter and fingers moved against computer keyboards. Her shoes squeaked against the clean floor as she began to walk towards it, but when she heard a slight cough from one of the open rooms she stopped. Her gaze moved in the direction of the sound, landing on 304. She didn't even think twice about going in. Giving a slight knock on the door, she went in, using the light from the hall to guide her.

"Marty?"

"Sounds like the Air Force has arrived." Came his reply.

Erin smiled and walked in.

Martin Lewis was a returning patient. Several times over the last few years he had been in with various ailments that could set any eighty-seven year old back. This time it was pneumonia, but after a week he was starting to show improvement. Erin guessed he would be allowed to go home within the next few days if he stayed on the course that he was. He could always be counted on for a good conversation though, no matter how awful he might have been feeling. More than once Erin had found herself in his room listening to his stories and talking about this and that. She enjoyed his company and found herself coming in during the slow hours and before and after her shifts would start. A sort of bond had been struck up between the two when she told him she was in the Air National Guard. He was one of the few people she'd talk about her experiences with. Probably because he understood them. His time in World War II hadn't been easy on him either.

"You look beat, Airman." He said when she came into view. "Hard day?"

She shook her head, "You have no idea. Do you mind if I sit down a minute?" She went to the uncomfortable plastic cushioned chair by his bed.

"Don't mind at all."

She took her seat, setting her bag down on the floor. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I could run to Queens and back." He told her with a smile.

Again Erin smiled, "One day you'll have to tell me the secret to your energy."

"One day, but not today." He gave his chest a pat with good humor. "How have you been Airman? Any news to report from the skies?"

"I'm afraid not, Sarge." She came back. "Same old stuff."

"You were having trouble sleeping the last time we talked."

Erin couldn't remember when that had been exactly, but insomnia wasn't out of character for her. It happened often enough for it to escape notice most of the time. Drinking a dozen cups of coffee a day to compensate the lack of sleep was just normal now. "I'm doing better." She lied. "It's just something I have to live with."

"I guess we're all sleeping a little less these days aren't we?" his words gave some comfort. "I can't even stand to turn on the television these days."

"Yeah."

"How is Manhattan looking? Have you been over there?"

Erin bit her lip. The conversation took a turn that she should have seen coming, but for some reason or another she had allowed it anyway. The thought of Clint scraped raw against her emotions. She hadn't been able to stop thinking about him since he had left her the other morning. Visions of him lying in an alley somewhere, injured or dead, wouldn't leave her mind. The worry took up half of her mind. The other half was completely devoted to the spark that had ignited between the two of the which didn't seem to want to burn out. Sighing, she turned her thoughts away from him and looked back at Marty" I haven't crossed the bridge since it happened." She told him honestly. "I'm kind of afraid to."

"We have our superheroes though don't we? You should think of that. Eases my mind a bit, I'll tell you that."

Smiling, Erin seized the opportunity for a break in the tension. "Let me guess, an Iron Man fan?"

"Don't insult me." He laughed, it quickly faded into a cough however and Erin felt bad. She immediately rose to get him some water from the pitcher, but he waved a hand to stop her. His breathing coming back to normal. "Don't start with that, Airman. You're off the clock."

"Sorry." She took her seat once more, satisfied that she hadn't sent him into a fit.

"I do like that Stark fella though." He said with a grin. "But I won't become a member of the fan club anytime soon. Now that Captain America on the other hand, that's a whole different matter. A Brooklyn Boy will always take first prize for me."

"I guess if you want to get technical, he's about your age isn't he?"

"He was a few years ahead of me in school."

Erin's eyes widened "Did you know him?"

"Not then, but later we met. Over in Austria during the war."

"This is a story I have to hear."

He grinned in her direction, his old eyes twinkling. "It's a good one, Airman. I promise."

Erin chuckled and sat back in her chair, crossing her legs one or the other. "I'm comfortable, spill it."

Erin listened on as Marty began to tell the story. Starting with his regiments orders to infiltrate a secret base hidden in an Austrian forest in 1942, he then detailed their defeat and his capture as a prisoner of war where he was put in a kind of forced labor factory that was constructing a "super airplane" for the Nazis.

"It was a sick thing they were doing, Airman, believe me when I tell you that. They treated their animals better than they treated us, but they didn't treat their animals all that well either. Beat us, starved us, let us all but freeze to death in that damn cold. It was a true living hell, Gods honest truth. We would have died. Someone of us were already starting to fall."

Sitting forward in her chair now, Erin stared at him in disbelief. Kindergarten to college, no one had ever covered this story in history class. "What happened? How did you get out?"

"The ol' Captain himself. Marched right in there, took out the scum and marched us right back out again. All the way back to Italy."

"You're kidding." Of course he wasn't though, Marty wasn't like that.

"Lightning strike me dead if I am." He promised. "The man was a born leader. Somehow he did that all on his own, released us all, lead us to overtake the bastards and got us out of there and back to the 107th in less time than it would have taken Patton to find a piece of paper to plan the same." Erin laughed at that. "So if he's anything like that now, trust me when I say we're in good hands."

She shook her head in disbelief. "Marty, that's amazing."

"Damn right it is."

"Did they let you come home after? I mean, how do you even begin to recover from something like that?"

"You push yourself, Airman, just like I always tell you. Just like I tell you every time you get that sick look in your eyes that takes you right back to Afghanistan. You just keep pushing. You fight and you live. I pushed through the rest of the war, I came home, I found my Beatrice, I had a lot of babies with her, and I pushed myself everyday of our sixty-one years together so I could leave that moment far behind me where it belonged."

The tone his voice took made Erin's eyes water with emotion. "I didn't know this was going to turn into a pep talk."

"Of course it was. I've got a lot of wisdom and the clock is ticking. I have to serve it out while I can." She laughed and he pressed on. "What brought it out today?"

She paused, unsure of how to explain it. It wasn't Afghanistan at all. For the first time in a long time, that wasn't the thing at the forefront of her mind. It was Clint. It had been Clint for three days now. She was more than half tempted to tell Marty about him, but she didn't. She had promised to keep his secret or at the very least she had felt like she had. Even if it was Marty and Clint was off somewhere else and she would probably never see him again, it still felt like it would be a betrayal.

"It wasn't any one thing," she finally said. "I guess things just creep up and grab me sometimes."

He nodded. Erin was unsure if he believed her. For a moment silence overtook them, but then he looked at her and shook his head. "Airman, you just need to find yourself a boyfriend."

Erin rolled her eyes, knowing what he was doing. "Oh hi Mom, when did you get here?"

He smiled back at her. "Your poor Mother, she's never going to get herself any grandchildren because you're always working."

"Good Lord, its like you two are talking about me behind my back."

He laughed again, this time softer so he wouldn't irritate his lungs. "Well it would be nice to see you rushing out of here for a date and not to get home to study."

"Dating doesn't get you a graduate degree, Marty." She had eight months left until she had the damn masters and now wasn't the time to lose her momentum.

"I'll call my grandson for you. He's an Aaron too, so you two should have a lot in common."

"Do it and you'll be a patient back in here with a broken jaw." She joked. "Speaking of studying though, I should probably get home to that." She rose from her chair and reached for her bag, looping it over her shoulder as she leaned in and gave the old man a kiss on his rough, wrinkled cheek. "I'll come back in to check on you tomorrow."

"I'll be here." He promised. "Good night, Airman."

"Night Sarge." She said, and moved towards the door.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Instead of going straight back to her apartment after leaving the hospital, Erin found herself turning in towards the front door of the bar instead. She opened the door to a typical weeknight; ESPN on the TVs and a few beers and conversation being passed around. It was comforting. She saw Brian behind the bar, staring down at his phone and zeroed in on him. She hadn't spoken to him in days and as he was both her cousin and best friend, she should probably put an end to that.

"Hey." She said approaching.

He looked up surprised to see her, but quickly let his expression fall into a smile. "Time for my execution already?"

She rolled her eyes at him and shook her head "You've been pardoned."

"Yeah? Can I get that in writing?"

"Don't push it."

He laughed and reached underneath the bar, grabbing a bottle for her as she slid into a seat and back into their comfortable routine. "Can I say I'm sorry though? Because I really am."

"I know." She took a sip of the beer.

"And you're more than welcome to do the same to me the next I bring a girl home. Break out the naked baby pictures if you want, I don't care. The potty training ones could be pretty damaging."

"I'm not that desperate," she smiled, "But thanks."

"So…" he leaned towards her, raising his eyebrows, "How is he? Clint right? How's Clint?"

She took another sip from her bottle and shook her head, "I don't know. He left maybe five minutes after you did."

"Did you get his number?"

Again, she shook her head.

"Did he give you his?"

"I didn't ask for it."

He studied her for a moment and then shook his head, "And now you're kicking yourself for it?"

She didn't answer, but she was sure her silence spoke volumes.

"You'll probably see him again," He then said. "You're not the type to attract assholes, Air Bear and from the five seconds of history I have with the guy, I'm confident he's not one. I'm sure he'll be back around within the next few days looking for you."

She sighed and gave a slight shake of her head. "I don't think so."

"Why?"

"I don't think he's in the place to do that right now."

"What kind of place is he in?"

For the first time in a long time, Erin felt her eyes begin to water. She pressed her lips together tightly and took a deep breath, calming herself before she could look up at Brian again. "The kind of place I used to be in."

The flicker of amusement faded from her cousin's eyes. She didn't have to elaborate, not with him. Before she knew it, he had come around the bar and was at her side, folding her up in his arms. Long ago he learned that nothing needed to be said in these moments, being there was all Erin needed and he was assured of that when he felt her drop into the embrace.

They didn't talk about Clint anymore that night.

A few days later, Clint's eyes shot open the moment he sensed the other presence in the room. They hadn't made a sound, even their breaths were silent, but he could feel them. Despite being completely shit faced and groggy, he could feel it. Years of training paralyzed his limbs and kept the steady rhythm in his chest. Whoever it was had come in through the window he had left open only a crack hours before. They wore black and shifted through the shadows like they were one with the fucking darkness. Odds are they were armed too, but so was Clint. The P30 was on the nightstand camouflaged by a few empty bottles. He only needed a half a second to a grab it, if that.

Almost as soon as his mind touched on the thought, Clint felt a hand come over his mouth, the source from the other side of the bed.

 _Shit, he miscounted._

He was pulled from the bed. Whoever it was, he was a fucking beast and had no problem roughly pulling Clint up by the neck and forcing him against the wall. The hand over his mouth fell away to his neck, gripping it and ready to choke. Clint didn't make a sound. Someone who didn't know better probably would have. They would have screamed for help without analyzing the situation. The alcohol was still clouding his brain, but he wouldn't let that stop him from focusing. He took in the darkness of the room, adjusting his eyes in the small amount of light. He had to make sure, damn sure, they were the only two he needed to deal with. Both were in masks, both were all in black, both were built like Army tanks and both were at least two inches taller than he was.

"You're a hard man to find, Agent Barton." The first said, his accent was hard to decipher. Eastern European maybe.

Clint's eyes zeroed in him and he shrugged his shoulders, "Not hard enough apparently."

"We were sent to give you a message."

He gave the guy a smile, almost laughing at the cliché. "I wasn't aware people still outsourced their threats." Natasha would have been proud of that one.

The second didn't seem to care for the smart assery though and gave Clint a good shove with the hand that still gripped his neck, making sure his fingers dug tighter into the skin. Even if he was sober, fighting the guy off would have been hard. A normal sized human he could handle, a three-hundred-pound brick wall with fucking vice like claws, he was going to have a harder time with.

Taking advantage of Clint's incapacitated state, the first stepped forward, Clint could practically see the sneer through his black mask. "My friend here could crush your throat like an aluminum can if he wanted to. I suggest you be a good boy and listen to what we have to say."

Clint glared back. It was all he could do, but damn it, he was going to throw all he had into it.

"This is your first and final chance," the first began to recite, "Your skills and knowledge are valued, but our boss has little patience for your games. Come with us or die."

 _The hell?_

What was he talking about? The asshole might as well have been speaking Japanese to him. Clint struggled against the grip of the second, throwing his glare into his direction before the first gave the nod for him to be released. His throat free from restraint, Clint still allowed himself to stay against the wall. He needed something to keep him steady while he processed how he was going to get out of this. He could feel himself sobering, but not as fast as he would have liked. As the gears began to turn though, he could feel himself sharpen.

 _Sharp_.

There was a knife in his back pocket. It wasn't ideal. He wasn't in a 50s musical, but it was enough to get him to his gun on the nightstand. He swallowed back,

"I don't do well with vagueness, guys. Especially when I've been drunk for the better part of two weeks. I'm going to need a bit more information."

"Answer!" the first snapped.

Clint's gaze swung to him. He used the movement to disguise his hand, a finger circling into the pocket of his jeans. As he touched the hard edge of the handle he felt the adrenaline surge through him.

"Like I said, more information."

"Are you declining then?"

Clint shrugged, "Sounds like it."

He pulled the knife, shielded in the shadows and popped it open, but the Brick Wall was too fast. Before Clint could even think of who to strike first, he felt the hard fist slam into his gut. The force knocked the knife from his hand and forced his body back against the wall. Another punch and another came, fast, bullet like, to his eye, his jaw, his neck. Clint hissed at the pain, staggered and fell, expecting to hit the floor, but finding himself pinging off the side of the second nightstand instead, the hard edge slicing into the side of his head like an ax to a stick of butter. Blood began to shoot from the wound, pouring down the side of his face, but he had no time to react.

The two grabbed him roughly, pulling him to his knees and Clint felt a hard steel barrel press against his forehead. His head swam and the wounds on his body throbbed. He couldn't think, he could barely breathe...

 _He was going to die. In this piece of shit hotel room in the darkest, dirtiest corner in Brooklyn, he was going to fucking die…_

A mess of images and faces began to roll through his mind. Most of them made sense, they fit in the mess that had been his life. Erin's smile didn't it though and neither had their last kiss. It was a good memory to die with though. He closed his eyes, holding on to the image and the feeling, and readied himself for the end.

"What the hell is going on in there?!"

Quickly his eyes shot open. The words had come from the other side of the door and were followed fast by hard fists again the wood. The two goons both turned their attention towards the sound and in that split second the instinct for survival kicked in. Clint raised his fists in a half a second and went right between their legs. Knocking them to the floor, he grabbed the gun from the relaxed hand of the first and scrambled over the bed, grabbing his own from the nightstand, knocking over a mass of bottles that shattered on the floor around him. He turned just as the two were beginning to rise to their feet and shot both weapons.

Both fell, screaming in the dark room. Clint had no idea where the bullets had landed and he wasn't going to sit around and wait. Driven by pure adrenaline he stuffed both into the pocket of his jacket, unconsciously grabbed his phone from the nightstand, pulled up his hood and burst through the door. A middle-aged guy stood on the other side and pulled back in fright when he saw Clint. He was already halfway back into his neighboring room, before Clint could mutter a Thank You and sprint down the stairs.

As soon as Brian had shut and locked the doors, Erin plugged her iPhone into the speakers. As the Foo Fighters began to play, she grabbed the last of the dirty glasses that had been bussed from the tables and took them in the back. Brian stayed out in the front wiping down tables and was stacking chairs up when she came back out. It had been a decent Friday, busy, but it kept her mind off crap and she got to finish the night with Brian, serving drinks, pulling in some decent tips and catch up with some friends who had come about forty-five minutes before last call.

"When is your next Guard weekend?" he asked as she went to pick up the broom and help.

"Two weeks," She told him. "Why?"

"Ashley was asking." He referred to the waitress who had just left, "Guess she wanted it off, but she'll have to wait."

Erin shrugged her shoulders and pushed the broom under the nearest table, sweeping out the crumbs and other things that had fallen underneath. Guard weekends were spent upstate and she usually left on Friday morning and came back Sunday night. Not long, but not ideal for helping Brian out either. This would be the first one she had gone to since everything had happened. It was anyone's guess what things would be like. Her unit, unlike many others, had not been activated when the city had been attacked. She had been on alert, but for one reason or another had never been called. It wasn't something she was going to argue with. They had cleared her for returning to work months ago, but Erin still wasn't sure if she was ready to get into a helicopter or look at a human body maimed beyond recognition yet…

The song changed, moving to the next on her playlist. For a while her and Brian were quiet, listening and cleaning. He sang along with Candlebox and she wiped the tables down.

" _And I'll take everything as it comes my way Pushin' your pain 'round my door…"_

Brian could sing. He could play several instruments too and if you gave him enough time to prepare, he'd put on a show at Sutton's with a group of friends he had that couldn't really be called a band, but sounded excellent together anyway. The thought brought back a flood of good memories that made her smile to herself and push away the thoughts that wanted to cloud her mind.

She finished up, getting the dust pan out and went to put her things away, when there was a knock on the window of the front door. They were obviously closed and Erin looked over the counter at Brian who was closer to the door.

"I'll get it." He told her.

She nodded and continued into the back, putting everything away and going to the sink to wash her hands. Just as she turned off the faucet she heard Brian calling for her.

"Erin!"

Hearing the sudden panic in his voice and she rushed out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her jeans. In the few short seconds, it took her to get from the kitchen to the front, a million scenarios entered her mind, but what she ended up seeing was not one of them. On the floor, in the open doorway, Brian had been forced down with the weight of another man, a black hood pulled over his head Erin had to take another step towards him before she realized it was Clint.

"Oh my God!" She was down on the floor immediately, sick dread filling her. "What happened?"

"I opened the door and he just fell on me." Brian was panicked.

Erin couldn't tell if Clint was conscious. His eyes were closed, but his breaths were erratic and inconsistent. The small part of his face visible under the hood he wore was flushed, an eye swelling and his top lip was fat with trauma. Erin quickly moved over him, brushing the hood from Clint's head and was immediately hit with scent and sight of blood. If Brian could have moved, he would have jumped back at least six feet. The source was a laceration the size of her index finger on the side of his head, about an inch above his ear. It was deep and would need stitches. Multiple other signs of trauma were now visible all over his face and neck. It was impossible to tell what kind of condition he was in.

 _Breathe…_

"Brian," she forced the words out in a calm push, "Go get me a clean towel."

Brian nodded, giving Clint a gentle push onto the floor, setting his head down last with a delicate hand. Erin managed a moments look of thanks towards her cousin, before shoved the bar door shut and moved to look over Clint with a better advantage.

She could feel the bile rise up in her throat as she looked him over. She said his name, once, twice before his eyes opened and he looked at her. She watched his throat bob and she a sudden burst of pressure on her arm as he grabbed for her. "No hospital." He said, the words hard and distinct.

 _What the hell?_ She shook her head, "No, you need—"

"No!"

The forcefulness took more energy than his body had to give, and even before the last syllable was out he was fading away from her. Brian was back with the towel, clean and folded and shoved it over the wound without prompting.

"Clint!" She tried to pull him back with a sharp tone and a touch against the cheek. "Clint, wake up. C'mon on, stay with me."

He didn't answer. His breaths were low and steady, his pulse surprisingly even as she touched her fingers to it.

She looked up at Brian, not knowing what else to do. He looked back at her, pale and obviously scared. Alice in Chains "Man in the Box" sounded almost faraway in the background. Brian's hand crept up into his pocket and he pulled his phone out. His was calling 911.

"No!" her free hand shot over the phone and pushed it away. "Don't."

"Erin, he—"

"I know, but…" she took another deep breath. "We can't, we just can't. Help me get him upstairs."


	5. Chapter 5

_I'm so excited to be getting such positive reviews and follows/likes for this! Thanks to everyone who is reading and I hope you continue to enjoy!_

Chapter Five

As soon as the bathroom door was securely shut behind her, Erin went immediately to the sink and pushed the faucet up fast to the hottest temperature and highest pressure. She pumped the orange hand soap into her hands and reached for the nearby brush and began to scrub her hands under the stream. She scrubbed hard until the familiar sensation of raw skin captured her senses and then scrubbed harder until she absolutely couldn't stand it anymore. Dropping the brush in the sink, she reached for a nearby towel. As she gripped the soft cloth, finding an odd comfort in the object, she listened to the water still flowing from the faucet and saw the darkness in the room. The last few hours with Clint; the fear, the blood, the split second decisions she had been forced to make and the long buried memories that had been forced to the surface by the event, suddenly irrupted within her and she fell slowly down onto the closed toilet and began to sob. Shielded by the dark bathroom and the sounds of the water, she cried hard, choking, shaking, expelling the feelings from her body like they were poison.

The release helped.

She dropped the hand towel and ran a slow thumb up the length of her right hand. Her mind was fucking with her. She had worn gloves. As soon as she and Brian had managed to get Clint upstairs and carefully placed his unconscious body on her bed, she had pulled the first aid kit out from under the sink and found the latex gloves. She remembered the night in half second long images that were reminiscent of a thunder storm. She had given Brian a pair of gloves and given him a package of QuikClot to replace the hand towel over the wound on Clint's head. She remembered cutting away clothes, finding the two hand guns and a cell phone stuffed in the pockets of Clint's bloody jacket. She had checked him over for broken bones and noted the size and location of the new bruises on his body. She then remembered digging through her gear in the closet and finding the olive green surgical suture kit that had been mixed in from a deployment pack up. She lastly remembered stitching the wound back together with the contents of the kit with a surprisingly steady hand, praying that Clint didn't wake up.

Brian had stayed with her the entire time. His silent assistance and presence was probably what had kept her focused. He knew her triggers and he knew what happened when they hit. Blood by itself wasn't one of them, but blood on her skin; the thick, crimson, liquid, pooling and dripping and carrying away the life force, impossible to recover and put away…that was the biggest.

The memories of Major Beckett's bloodied body and the chest wound that gushed and bubbled against her bare hands sent Erin's tears flowing again and her hands back to the sink. She scrubbed more as she sobbed, the knowledge that she had hardly touched Clint's blood not helping in the slightest.

When she finally emerged from the bathroom a good amount of time had probably passed, but Brian was still in the bedroom waiting for her. He had pulled up a chair from the desk so he could sit next to Clint's still form on the bed. Erin noticed that the bloody pile of rags, towels and clothes had been taken away, the guns and cell phone sat on the dresser as if there were everyday objects that belonged beside her jewelry box. He looked up when he saw her and then stood, moving towards her and handing her an orange pill bottle and glass of water.

Apparently the running water hadn't covered the sound of her tears as well as she thought it had. As much as she hated taking the medication though, she didn't fight him. She took the bottle and opened it, popping the Ativan into her mouth before washing it down with the water.

"Maybe you should go lay down."

"What if he wakes up?"

"I don't think he will for a while."

She knew he was right, but still, she hesitated. What she had done, taking matters into her own hands and not calling 911 was beyond stupid. There was at least two hundred ways in which this could go wrong. She could have missed something, he could develop an infection, there could be brain damage, internal injuries…and if anything happened it was all on her.

Brian's gaze moved from her, to Clint, and then over to the dresser where the guns now sat, unloaded. "So, what happened? Is there a gang war we should be aware of?"

Erin almost laughed. All of this shit had happened in the last few hours right in front of Brian and not once had either one of them voiced the how's or why's of it. "He's not in a gang."

"CIA?"

"You're getting warmer."

His tired eyes almost smiled at her. "Why don't you just lay it out for me?"

She looked over at Clint, still on the bed. The gauze she had wrapped around his head earlier to hold the bandage in place over the sutures was a stark white against his skin tone, but he was still pale and, as she realized then, thinner, frailer. He didn't look at all like the hero that had helped save the city. "Picture him with a bow in his hand standing next to Captain America." The words slipped sadly from her mouth in a quiet voice.

"Shit." Brian's gaze snapped back and forth between her and the bed. "Shit," he repeated, "How didn't I see that? And why the hell didn't you say anything?"

She shrugged. "I don't know."

"So who did this to him? Was it because of that or-?"

"I don't know." she repeated, the context different now.

Brian sighed, burying his face in his hands for a moment. "Shouldn't we tell someone? Call someone? His phone lit up twice while you were in the bathroom."

She looked at him, "It did?"

"Yeah," he stepped over and grabbed the iPhone off her dresser, handing it over. "Someone named Natasha both times."

Erin illuminated the screen, seeing the missed calls notification. No voicemails though. Without thinking she slid her thumb across the bottom to unlock the screen, but was immediately hit with a password request. A pang of defeat hit her, even though it made sense. If she didn't walk around with an unsecure phone, why should he?

"It was worth a shot." Brian spoke up.

"Yeah." Erin moved towards the opposite side of the bed and pulled her charger up from the nightstand. She plugged in Clint's phone and set it down. At least when he woke up, he'd have fully battery to call "Natasha".

"Well, I'll say it again," Brian said after a moment, "Maybe you should lay down."

She finally peeled her eyes off of Clint and looked at her cousin. "Yeah."

He held up an arm and motioned for her to come with him. "I'll take the recliner and you can have the couch, okay?"

* * *

Clint's eyes opened to a bright, familiar room, hours later. It wasn't his run down, piece of shit hotel room. A foam mattress, no springs jabbing into his back, soft pillows, books stacked on a white nightstand, blue walls…he took it all in and the accompanying sense of safety the atmosphere offered. It took him another moment to realize where he was, that he had been in this bed before, only the last time he had woken up in it it had been after a night of amazing sex with an amazing woman. Some aspects were similar. He felt rested then, he felt it now. He knew his sleep hadn't been plagued by vivid night terrors that tore at his soul and made him want to put a gun to his head. Both times he had woken up alone and felt the emptiness in a regretful, aching way. The clear difference was that then he had felt fine physically, now he felt like he had been run over by an eighteen-wheeler at 75 miles an hour. He shut his eyes, zeroing in on the throbbing in his head, in his chest, in his whole fucking body.

He sensed a presence nearby and his eyes nearly shot back open.

Erin appeared in the bedroom doorway. Her eyes darted to his as she realized he was awake and Clint felt a strange shooting sensation in his heart that had nothing to do with his pain. He was silent as she made her way over to him looking like a god damn angel in black sweatpants and a faded long sleeve SUNY shirt that had seen better days. Her hair was damp and the scent of clean cherry blossoms filled the air around him as she put a gentle hand to his forehead. Apparently satisfied with what she found, she pulled back and handed him two white pills and gave him a glass of something to wash it down with. When she was done she sat down on the chair that had been brought up to the bed and leaned over, resting her elbows on her legs.

"It's not last week is it?" he attempted the joke, but failed miserably in the delivery. His body protested at the slight movement his mouth made to form the words.

She half smiled over at him, but it faded just as fast as it had come on. She settled a hand over his chest, the touch sending an electric shock through him. "Try not to move, okay. Your ribs are bruised and I'm not very confident about those stitches."

He swallowed back. His throat was dry. "Stitches?"

"Your head. The sutures are pretty unprofessional, but they're holding. Judging by your scars though, I think they're about on par with your medical history."

"Chicks dig scars though right?"

"Concussion, bruised ribs, multiple lacerations and you're flirting with me?"

"It's the Percocet."

"I didn't give you Percocet."

He grimaced. "You should have."

"Unless you want to go to a hospital, you'll have to settle for Tylenol."

"I was afraid you'd say that." A shot of pain hit Clint in the head as he said the final word. Instinctively he brought a hand up towards the source, the side of his head, but Erin's own hand quickly came up to stop him.

"Don't." she reminded him.

"Was it bad?" he asked.

She pursed her lips and sat back in the chair, folding her arms together. Clint took that as a yes. He sighed audibly and closed his eyes.

"The thing is," her voice pulled his eyes back open, "I don't even know if I fixed it. You need x-rays, a CT—"

"No hospitals."

Her jaw clenched. "You could have internal injuries, bleeding—"

"I don't."

Her lips pressed together and tightened in a straight line. She could have been scared, or even annoyed with him, but Clint had a feeling she had skipped over both of those emotions and went straight into pissed off and he had probably just thrown a gallon of gasoline of the proverbial fire by refusing the medical care he probably needed.

After he had made it out of the hotel and did his best to disguise himself on the street he waited to see if he was being followed. Hidden in one of the alley's he had watched the building for awhile before he was satisfied the guys he had shot weren't coming out. As his adrenaline had fallen though, the pain he was in began to hit him hard. He felt the blood gushing from his head and knew he had to get somewhere and fast. He could have called Natasha, in fact that would have made more sense than stumbling the eight blocks to Erin's, but…he hadn't been thinking straight.

He had put her in an altogether fucked up situation. Probably her cousin too. Not just showing up on their doorstep covered in blood and bruises, but whoever it was that wanted him dead, probably wouldn't hesitate to take them out too if they got in his way. He didn't put innocent people in danger.

 _Fuck, he needed to get out of here._

He began to sit himself up, ready to throw some "I feel great, think I'll be going." lie at her, but she was quick to catch him and stood up fast, putting both hands on his shoulders to push him back down.

"You're not going anywhere." She told him, her jaw still tight with anger.

Clint opened his mouth to fight her, but the sound of the front door opening stopped him. He heard someone call out Erin's name. Her cousin the bartender, he realized as she replied, calling him into the bedroom. She met him at the doorway and took two of the plastic shopping bags that were in his hands, inviting him to put the rest on the bed.

"Is he awake?" he asked, dropping everything on the foot of the bed in a heap, then he saw Clint. "Man, you look like shit."

"Shut up." Erin turned her glare on him, a fact that Clint was thankful for.

"It's the truth." Brian shrugged his shoulders.

She ignored him. "Did you get everything?"

"I think so." He gestured to the pile on the bed. ""Pants, t-shirts, toothbrush, underwear…thanks for that by the way. I could have gone my whole life without needing to buy underwear for another guy. Razors, comb, soap, shampoo-"

Clint sat up, pushing his weight on his elbows. "What the hell?" he managed, before the pain became too much.

"Lay back down!" Erin was quick to bark out the order. She dropped the bags she carried and came back over to his side, hovering like an annoyed mother. "Move again and I'll give you another concussion, do you understand?"

Clint probably would have smiled at the spark in her command if she hadn't been so fucking serious about the threat, instead his eyes narrowed, "What are you doing?"

"Taking care of you." She snapped back. He got a whiff of those cherry blossoms again and wished he had the strength to pull her to him so he could see if her skin tasted as good as it smelled.

 _Focus, Clint_

"By spending $100 at Target?"

"$200 actually." Brian cut in.

"What the hell?" Clint repeated, pushing himself up again. Pain unique to anything he had ever felt before hit every part of him at once. He instantly regretted the move and as Erin's pissed off voice echoed in his head he let his arms collapse and fell back down on the soft mattress with a contrasting painful blow. He felt weak. That was all he could come up with in his mind as a dark cloud of unconsciousness began to push over him. She came over him, barely visible in his vision as he forced his eyes to stay open, trying like hell to push through the pain, the anger gone from her face.

 _Well at least he had that going for him._

Both her hands cradled his head and he saw her mouth move in his name, but he couldn't hear anything besides the blackness. That didn't even make sense. That was it though and it was his last conscious thought before he gave up the fight and let his eyes close on her.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

When Clint opened his eyes again it was damn obvious that he had been out for a while. The shades on the windows were pulled down, but the little light he could see indicated that the sun was setting outside. His body felt heavy and weak. The simple act of turning his head to look around the room took a serious amount of effort. He was alone. A lamp was on in the corner though and he could hear sounds coming from the open door to the living room.

He was wearing a t-shirt now. Dark blue and clean, it wasn't his and neither were the soft pants he could feel against his legs, but the idea that someone cared enough to put the clothes on him at all gave him some comfort.

His mind began to clear the longer his eyes stayed open and the need for water jumped to the front. Calling out for it wasn't going to work though. He felt like there were a few hundred bricks sitting on his chest, but he was going to have to find the strength somewhere if he wanted to do anything about the sensation of sand paper in his throat. He closed his eyes and began to take a breath, but opened them again when he heard someone enter the bedroom.

He was disappointed to see it wasn't Erin.

"You're up." Brian said. "Want something to drink?"

Clint nodded his head and looked on gratefully as Brian produced a camelback that Clint could easily sip from. He took a long drink, barely getting his head off the pillow before he was finished. Feeling somewhat refreshed, he relaxed against the pillow again. "Where's Erin?"

"At work." He said taking the bottle back. "She tried to get out of it, but…here, take these. I was told to feed you when you woke up." He handed over a stack of saltines. "Yeah anyway, she couldn't talk her way into a day off so you get me instead. She went in this morning though so she should be back soon."

Clint gave a slight nod of recognition before he took a bite of one of the crackers and then half of the next one. "What day is it?" he asked after swallowed

"Sunday."

"Sunday?" Fuck, he had been out for over 24 hours.

"You passed out pretty hard that last time." Brian stood over him, crossing his arms and filling in the lost time, "Erin said it was probably a good thing though. Got you through the pain and we were able to get you cleaned up."

"Thanks." Clint managed.

"No problem. Gave your girlfriend a chance to cool off too."

Clint managed a sideways glance in the direction of the dry humor Brian had thrown at him. "Don't' worry about that, I'm sure I'll turn her around in no time."

"Well here, I'll race you to the pissed off finish line." he pulled a bottle of pills out of his pocket and placed the orange bottle on the nightstand. "I broke my ankle about a year ago. Found the leftover pain meds in my bathroom. Probably expired, but better than nothing right?"

Clint glanced at the bottle labeled oxycodone. He counted about five pills and looked back at Brian with thanks. "Appreciate it." He told him and damn he did too, even looking over at the bottle was painful.

"Yeah well I've been on Erin's bad side before and if you want to come through it in one piece you'll need a good narcotic."

"She's that mad?"

"I've seen her worse." He exhaled and sat down. "It's probably not so much you as it is the situation. She doesn't do good when she doesn't have control over things. I mean don't think you getting the shit beat out of yourself and refusing to go to a hospital doesn't have any anything to do with it, it does, but the situation; someone bleeding all over her bed and the floor of her cousins bar brings up some bad memories."

Clint didn't reply, but the gist of what Brian was saying was plainly obvious. From the few pieces of information he had gathered about Erin along the way and now what he was being told, a pretty bad picture was beginning to form. He refused to ask Brian for further details though. He had done enough by putting them in this position and refused to violate any more of the trust they had given him. He could feel Brian's eyes on him, probably waiting for a reaction. He didn't know the guy well, but he doubted he was baiting him for any reason other than to see what kind of guy his cousin had slept with that one time after a drunken pool game.

He had to change the subject. "Hey man, do you think I could take a shower?"

"Yeah." Brian nodded. "Might want to pop one of the pills first, but Erin said you could if you felt up to it. Need any help?"

Clint tried a grin. "Fuck, I hope not." He said and attempted to start pushing himself up.

Brian laughed and was quick to come to his side, offering a schooled arm for him to pull up on. "Hey, who do you think has been lifting your ass up out of the bed since you got here?"

Clint cringed at the thought. "Probably owe you something for that." His feet came slowly and painfully down on the floor.

Brian gave him a lift and helped him up to stand. "Get me a photo op with Tony Stark and we'll call it even."

Unsteady, Clint hung onto Brian's steady form for balance, but at the light suggestion his entire body seemed to cringe in unease. His gaze cut to Brian, unsure about where he was going with that statement. Clint had been able to successfully, well 99% successfully, hide himself from the public since all of that shit with Loki had gone down and now faced with the recognition he wasn't exactly sure how to react. Unquestionable acceptance seemed to be genetic in the Sutton family though because Brian's expression remained comical. He wasn't serious and was clearly just poking at Clint to get his mind off of the pain.

Clint swallowed, focused now on keep the humor level. "Are you sure? He's a mouthy little shit."

Brian laughed. "The best of us are. Come on." And he helped Clint cross the distance towards the bathroom door.

Once in, Brian released him when Clint felt confident enough in his balance to tell him so. Before leaving, Brian pulled a towel out of the closet behind the door and set it on the closed toilet lid and got some clean clothes from the stack that had been put on the dresser in the bedroom. "Toothbrush is on the blue one on the sink, shampoo and soap are in the shower." He said and shut the door. Gripping the sink for support, Clint shook his head at the five star treatment around him. He was never going to be able to pay them back for this. The care, the clothes, the help...no one, except probably his parents, had ever treated him like this. Even Natasha kept her distance when he was down. She'd check on him, fight with him, but stitching him up? Helping him to the bathroom? No. Then again, she'd probably never had the chance to. For all of the shit that he'd experienced, all of the times he had been shot, stabbed, punched, he had never ended up like this before. In hindsight, a fight with two guys wouldn't have normally knocked him down so hard, but he was sure that what Loki had done to him and the way he had treated himself since was playing in a part in all of that. It had weakened him and given them the opportunity to attack him without any barrier. If he wanted any hope of surviving, he needed to fix himself and fast. Whoever sent those pieces of shit after him wanted him dead. He had no fucking idea who it was or why, but they did none the less. And people who wanted you dead didn't get knocked down so easily.

Gulping back, Clint lifted his head and looked to his reflection in the mirror. He looked bad, but he'd looked worse. In fact, he looked better than he had a few days ago. He probably had the unconscious sleep to thank for that. Carefully, he pulled at the bandage around his head and then at the gauze over the cut above his ear. The thing hurt like hell, but he had to see it.

It was hard not to miss to the skill that had closed up the wound. It was deep, he could tell, but he doubted anyone could have done a better job in closing it up. The area around it was clean and his cropped hair would do a decent job of keeping it covered. Erin clearly hadn't lingered at the bottom of her class in nursing school.

As the thought of her crossed his mind, a faint smile reflected on Clint's lips and a warmth spread through his chest. The atmosphere of the entire apartment surrounded his senses with her, but it was definitely concentrated in the bathroom. The cherry blossom scented soap he remembered so clearly from the other night was sitting on the shelf in the open shower, her makeup brushes standing up upside down from mason jars on the counter, a curling iron and brush were thrown into a basket beside his feet and a few bottles of perfume were on the shelf under the mirror.

Everything about the small room was normal; it was lived in, it was domesticated, it showed life and living even though it was empty. A factor that had never really been present in his own life. His toothbrush, his shampoo, his soap, lived in an old tool bag that he had snagged from an unsuspecting mechanic at military base in Japan a few years ago. He couldn't even remember why he had been in the country, but the stop at MCAS Futenam was a layover between there and wherever it was he had gone after and he had grabbed the first thing around him that would hold his shit. It had held up good since, holding his shit because he never had a room or an apartment long enough to do the job. He was always moving, always off somewhere. "Home" was a foreign term in his world, but it seemed it was blatantly normal in Erin's.

He had disrupted Erin's normal with his abormal and the reminder of that fact hit him with a wave of nauseous guilt. His head fell and he swallowed, trying to reason with his mind, but something else was there…

 _Fuck. Not now…_

The thoughts in his head began to scramble. His silent assurance that he would leave as soon as he could and protect Erin from further danger became lost among a familiar gathering of black fog and electric blue lightning. His hands gripped the sink, holding himself steady as he knew he could do nothing but prepare for the first wave. His chest began to heave and quake and initiated an epicenter of tremors that shot quickly throughout his body.

" _You have heart."_

The echo of the voice was followed quickly by a crushing blow that knocked his legs out from under him and sent him painfully to the tile floor below. A scream pushed through his clenched jaw as his hands reached out to grab at something, anything, to crush beneath his fingers. Silent orders to kill, the ones that Loki had forced into his mind, echoing, demanding, followed into the chaos. Clint began to feel his weak grip on reality slip from him.

 _Then…cherry blossoms._

The sudden appearance of the scent made his eyes shoot open and with the last of his clarity he saw Erin in front of him. His hands came up and gripped the long sleeves of her shirt, the blue and green print of her scrubs fucking with his vision.

" _Find it_!" the words echoed harshly throughout the room. It took Clint far too long to realize he was the one that had said them.

"Clint!" Erin's voice powered over everything else and she forced him to look at her, her dark blue eyes demanding that every part of him conform. "Clint, stop it!"

His brain suddenly began to clear and he could feel the real world began to pull him back into its grasp. His hands were still firmly gripping Erin's arms. She must have just walked through the door from work. Still in her scrubs, her soft hands were cupping his face with a worried affectionate touch. He pushed himself up, ignoring the pain that move gave him. He needed to be closer to her.

 _Close, closer, closer…_

His lips pushed against hers. He needed her, not just against him, but to wipe it all away. The kiss pushed the shit away, it leveled him and brought him back where he belonged. The control of her soft lips and the unexplained power that ignited between them in that moment was better than any drug or shot of liquor at getting Loki out his fucking head. He deepened the kiss, pushing himself up further from the bathroom floor, into a sitting position that allowed him to run a hand against her cheek and through her soft wavy hair.

 _She didn't push him away. Fuck! She didn't push him away…_

Her hands still cupped his cheeks, with a soft thumb, she brushed the wetness from his cheeks…

 _He had been crying._

The realization pulled him back. His head was throbbing along with the rest of his body now, but the way her gaze stuck to him, all warm and blue, gave him an anchor against the strong mix of physical and mental pain. For the second time in as many days she had been there when he had been most vulnerable. She wasn't repelled by him, she wasn't scared and nothing about her gaze suggested pity. The beautiful blue pools were still full of the understanding he had encountered the first time they had met and despite the small handle he had on his conscious at that moment that screamed he didn't belong where he was, he never wanted to fucking leave her.

"Clint." His name came out of her soft lips in voice that pulled his hand up to touch her cheek. He wanted to guide their lips back together. He wanted to forget what happened in the last ten minutes and the last month, pull her down, fill his senses with her scent and soft skin and kiss her until, well until for-fucking-ever.

"You need to lay back down." She said.

He smiled, "Yeah, we do." His head spun, but damn it he was glad they were on the same page. He waited for her to smile at him in reply for the comment. It was a damn good one and her eyes sparkling at him would have been the perfect reward, but to his disappointment she didn't. Instead her hand came up and slowly pushed his down. He inhaled away the rush of cold air that hit him as she stood and reluctantly let her pull him to his feet.

"Come on."

The short trip from the bathroom back to the bedroom was hazy. Once she had him sitting back on the bed she handed him the water bottle from the nightstand and made him take a few sips before taking it back.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, his head now feeling heavy and hard to hold up. The pattern on her scrubs caught his eyes again. Blue and green squares began to turn in place and he could hear the Pac Man theme echoing from somewhere.

She gave him a gentle push onto the pillows and switched off the lamp, sending the room into darkness and silencing the turning squares. "You don't have anything to be sorry for."

He nodded.  
 _She was smart so he'd take her word for it._

The thought relaxed him and he let his head sink into the soft pillow. "You should kiss me good-night."

That made her smile. Or at least he assumed it did. He couldn't see anything, but he did hear her light laughter and he decided to let that count.

"Go to sleep." She then said.

His eyes closed. "Yeah, that's a good idea."

And he was out.


	7. Chapter 7

**This took so much longer to post than I thought it would. Originally it was longer, but then as I kept writing it got longer and longer so I decided "Better just start a new chapter" so now we have a shorter chapter, but at least half of the next already written. I know, I know...lol. Hope you enjoy! Likes and Reviews always welcome!**

Chapter Seven

The Air Force had trained Erin well on recognizing the symptoms of post traumatic stress. Her initial training and the months spent in tech school covered the topic in various forms several times in their weekly modules. She understood the telling emotions and behaviors in patients and was taught to catch the signs and warnings before the disorder was given the chance to manifest into something more dangerous. She felt confident in the education she had received. Confident enough to take that first deployment to Bagram Air Base back in 2008 with a good amount of optimism. Within five days of her arrival in country however, before she had even fully unpacked, a security forces convoy patrolling around the base perimeter had been hit by an IUD and tested everything she had learned.

Erin would never remember that day without tears. Four of the SP's had been DOA. There had been nothing to do but swallow back the grief, lay a disguising sheet over the bodies and add their names to the roster on the cargo plane that would take them to Dover Air Force Base. It was a routine that would become all too familiar to her over the next eight months, but at that moment, it was all new and painfully surreal. The survivors were all in various states of injury, but she was sent out of the hospital and to the flight line to prepare the C-17 for their transport to Ramstein Air Force Base in Germany. Bagram was only the first stabilizing stop for many of the injured in the area. There was only so much that could be done on station in the middle of a war zone so the critical cases were always sent to Germany where more time and care could be given to them. Erin's job as a flight nurse included transforming the cargo area of a plane into a flying ambulance and traveling with the patients. She rolled on equipment from the ramp, latched it down, and made sure the supplies were all accounted for and organized.

Considering all that had to be done, the time it took to get flight ready was minimal and within an hour, just as the sun was beginning to rise on the sandy brown horizon, they took off. Erin remembered clearly how exhausted she had been and that it had hit her hard once things had settled. The C-17 wasn't exactly designed for a peaceful flight. It was loud and cold, but that hadn't stopped her from taking a seat once she was able to and letting herself nod off next to the two others on her team. Both were in the same Guard unit as her. Mj. Pierce was the physician in charge, in his early forties she had guessed and quiet. He kept to himself and with a watchful eye on the patients. Captain Kade, the respiratory specialist was in his early thirties and usually talkative, but even he was rendered silent by everything that had happened. As her head had leaned back against the flight chair she had watched him read a George R.R. Martin book until her eyes closed.

A strong surge of turbulence hit about an hour later, pulling Erin sharply out of her shallow sleep. From the cockpit the pilot ordered in a commanding voice for them to "hang on". The sedation of the patients seemed to hold and knowing they were all safely secured in their beds, Erin, Kade and Pierce stayed where they were. As the shaking became stronger however a few began to stir and suddenly the one closest to her began thrash. Erin had quickly unbuckled herself and gone to him. A1C Andrus' wounds were centralized to his legs. His left femur was broken and had been set and bandaged at Bagram. Erin's focus immediately went to keeping him still so he didn't further injure himself. She put her steady hands on his shoulders and tried to catch his gaze with her own. He was young, nineteen from what his chart had said, but the fear she suddenly saw in his eyes, the raw emotion so overwhelming and powerful, made him look like a scared child.

"Airman, it's okay." she had tried to calm him over the noise and tremors, "I'm Lt. Sutton. You're on a plane headed to Germany. It's just some turbulence, it will be over with soon."

Andrus' lips clamped shut as his eyes remained wide and his breaths heavy and deep. He suddenly stilled and gripped her arms. His grasp pulled on the sleeves of flight suit and his jaw clenched. "MAKE IT STOP!" he screamed at her.

Jarred with fear, Erin swallowed back and forced herself to stay calm. Behind her she could feel the movements of Pierce and Kade. "Andrus," she kept her voice steady, "It's okay, it's just turbulence."

Whether he heard her or not, Erin still didn't know, but his grasp on her arms suddenly became vice like and he had yanked her painfully towards his chest as if her body could provide some sort of shelter from what was going on around them. She tried to pull back, but wasn't any match against his strength. He pulled her right off her feet, her boots flying into the air and knocking against the IV pole attached to his bed. Her hair had been longer then, and he had quickly pulled it out of the regulation bun and used it as another way to yank at her, pushing her face into his chest and cutting out the breathable air.

It had been a true nightmare; the plane shaking in violent rolls, Andrus screaming, clutching her hard, pulling at her hair, Kade trying to separate them, and both the pilot and navigator in the cockpit cursing and yelling at her team to get the situation under control. She knew now the entire thing had taken place in mere minutes, but at that moment it had felt much longer. When Pierce had finally managed to sedate Andrus again and his grip on her had released, Erin hardly had the strength to stand. Kade had held on to her, walking her back to the flight seat as the turbulence had begun to slow. Pierce had joined them after another moment and checked her over and made sure she wasn't going to faint on them.

She knew now she had mishandled the situation and what was more, she had lacked the knowledge or skill to navigate herself out of it. It made her wonder if she had made the same mistake the other night with Clint…

The look in his eyes when she had found him had been the most frightening thing she had ever seen. It wasn't like Andrus', it was like nothing she had ever seen before. No amount of training could have prepared her for it.

What she had seen, the person she had seen, had not been Clint. It was a soulless, lifeless force. Dark and angry and the sight of it had shaken her in no way that fear had before. The screams that had come from him were unhuman. She'd never think of herself as brave by sticking around through those awful few seconds. It was the simple fact that he was clinging to her so tightly that she had stayed and not run from the room. That was it. She wasn't a hero.

Everything that had happened, everything that he had said and done, chilled her…but, then somehow…he came back to her.

And then like it had never happened…kissed her. The soft, expressive move had brought her back from her fear and moved her to some unearthly place full of stars and warmth. No one had ever kissed her like that before. Hell it was nearly an hour after the fact and the damned thing was still giving her goosebumps and making her entire body heat up. He had kissed her like he was coming up for air, like he wanted to wrap the two of them up in it and consume all it had to give.

The romantic in her buzzed from the passion of it and almost made the practical and worried side shut up.

Almost.

With a deep breath and a hit with reality, she felt the sudden need to not be alone.

Brian had left shortly after she had walked through the door. He had been sleeping in her recliner since Saturday night and given up his two days off on Sunday and Monday to be a backup nurse and babysitter while she was a work. She wasn't going to ask him to stick around once she got home just because she might need someone to talk to an hour later.

He had told her Clint had woken up and wanted to take a shower. She hadn't liked the idea of Clint standing without assistance, but she didn't call her cousin an idiot for allowing it. After he had left, she stepped into the bedroom to change out of her scrubs and was stopped only when she heard Clint fall.

As the event started to turn in her head once more, Erin reached to the coffee table for the glass of wine she had poured and took a long sip. It was weak effort to shut herself up and despite her better judgement, she reached for the purse she had thrown on the couch earlier and dug around in it until she found the bottle of Ativan. Unscrewing the top, she counted out the dosage in her hand, popped them in her mouth and chased them with a mouthful of the white wine. She would have smacked anyone else for doing the same, but her Fuck It attitude at that moment had won the battle. If it had been ten years ago she would have gone down the street to her friend Ashley's and gotten some weed from her older brother Shaun. Getting high in his shoebox of a room would have been preferable to the risky cocktail she just took, but between the hospital and the Air Force's random tests that involved her peeing in a cup that was too risky now.

Erin put the wine glass down and stuffed the pill bottle back into her bag before putting it on the floor next to the couch. Determined to shut her brain off for the night, she kicked off her Asics and fell back against the pillow that was already waiting for her. The couch was fine for sitting, but it wasn't the best for sleeping, especially when you were used to a queen sized bed and sleep number mattress, but she had made it work for the last three nights, she could do it again tonight. She pulled up the blanket that had been stuffed at the other end of the couch with a lazy foot and turned onto her side, putting her face against the back cushions before closing her eyes.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Clint stared at the coffee pot. It wasn't supposed to be difficult to make, coffee that is. New filter, put in grounds, shut lid, push button. Apparently, Erin hadn't gotten that memo though because the complicated stainless steel monstrosity on the counter in her kitchen was something that could have probably stumped the combined brain power of Stark and Banner.

He had felt down right shitty when he had woken up. He remembered far too clearly what had happened the night before and all of that combined with the hungover feeling he had when his eyes had opened just made his drive to get out of Erin's apartment even more urgent. He'd gotten up and dug out a pair of jeans out of one of the Target bags, failed to find any shoes and began to comb the apartment for the ones he had arrived in. He didn't find them, but he found out Erin kept a pretty clean place, cluttered but clean. She owned more books than she could keep on the shelves she had in the living room and they seemed to take up residence in various places all over the apartment. She had a desk that was full of medical textbooks, notebooks and a Macbook that looked like it had lived through a few good beatings. There was also a varied collection of record albums that would fit better in the home of someone about twenty years older than her and she had a large Rubbermaid box in her closet full of military shit that was missing a lid. To match that she had a few uniforms hanging in above it four sets of ABUs with captain's bars, a few flight suits and a set of Air Force Blues with the option of skirt and pants. The open closet door gave him yet another glimpse into the life he felt like he had invaded.

He had walked out to the living room then, knowing she was out there and intent on demanding his shoes back when he saw she was still fast asleep on the couch. It was almost 9, already hot enough outside to fry a metaphoric egg on the sidewalk, but there she was still passed out, her hair a wavy mess on the pillow, legs tucked around the blanket that covered her. She had fallen asleep in her scrubs and Clint tried to look past the flash of bare skin at her hip where the shirt had ridden up. His mind though, latched onto the memory he had of gripping that same spot and its partner as she had ridden him that night and the unfaithfulness of an erection soon followed.

Fuck.

She was fucking sleeping. Who the hell looked sexy when they were asleep?

 _Find your damn shoes and get the hell out of here, Clint._

Fighting the urge to squeeze in beside her and slip a hand over that bare hip, Clint did a good turn of the living room and kitchen, looking under chairs and tables, but not finding any sign of his shoes. The defeat was obvious, and he honestly didn't have the energy to fight it. Taking another glance towards Erin, he watched her move slightly, pressing her face into the pillow. His thoughts softened and he decided if he couldn't make a break for it now, he'd just wait until she woke up to make his case. In the meantime, he decided he could probably stop being a bad house guest.

And that was how he had ended up at the coffee maker.

He pressed a button and then another, determined to get the damn thing working. When that didn't help, he shoved at a few at once and when that didn't work, he slapped a hand against it. Flinching at the dumb move, he heard Erin stir on the couch and then a beep from the machine and it started to brew. He grabbed two mugs off the shelf and was ready the drip stopped. He took his black, but a quick survey of the sugar bowl on the counter and the French Vanilla creamer in the fridge, Erin didn't. He used common sense mixing it together and was just lifting the mugs off the counter when he heard her breaths begin to wake from the living room.

The open layout of the apartment gave him a direct line of sight to her and he saw her sit up and rub a hand against her eyes before she noticed him standing in the kitchen. Her tired eyes went wide. "What—"

"Don't," he shook his head, holding onto the mugs as he moved towards her, "I'm okay."

"You're—"

"I made it this far." He assured as he came to her side and put her mug down on the coffee beside a half empty wine glass. "I'm okay."

Her hair was everywhere, her clothes were wrinkled and it was clear she had slept hard, but Clint's breath caught in his throat as he looked at her. He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her like he had the night before. He remembered that clearly too…

"You made coffee?" she interrupted his thoughts.

"Uh, yeah." He clutched his own mug. "One of the few things I can do in the kitchen.

With an eye still on him, like she was ready for him to explode on her at any moment, Erin reached for the cup on the table and brought it to her lips. After she had taken a few sips, and then another, she finally seemed to relax and then looked back at him…gratefully. "Thanks. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I feel fine. I've had worse." He said, thinking she referred to his external injuries. It was only after the words left his mouth and had settled in the air for a bit that he realized she meant something else. "Oh my demonic possession thing? Yeah I guess that's something else."

She sipped from her mug again, keeping her blue eyes fixed on him. "It happens a lot?"

"Yeah. No rhyme or reason really, just does."

"Since…"

"Are you trying to diagnose me?"

She shrugged her shoulders and took another drink of coffee. "I've never seen anything like that before and I've seen a lot of shit. I think I'm trying to explain it to myself right now more than anything."

He nodded, hearing, but avoided giving her any sort of reaction to her words. "I need to leave."

She took a breath and looked at him. "I had a feeling you'd say that."

"I can't stay here. You know you guys aren't safe if I'm here. You're smart, so you do know that?"

"Yeah, I know that." She nodded. "But you're not safe no matter where you go, right?"

Clint was pretty sure his silence to that question spoke the volumes that it needed.

She stared back at him, her fingers lacing around the blue mug of coffee he had given her. It almost matched her eyes, eyes that were alert and focused even though she had just woken up. He wanted to toss the whole conversation, jump across the coffee table and kiss her. Just push her down into the white couch cushions, run his hands through her tangled hair and let her fill his senses.

"You can leave." she said after a long pause, "You didn't need to ask my permission or anything, but," he gaze fell to the coffee, breaking their eye contact, a classic move of uncertainty. "I just…I have so many questions."

Clint considered her words with a careful and slow thought. Questions were normal, SHIELD security being what it was though, he wasn't really supposed to give answers. "What do you want to know?"

She looked up at him fast, probably as shocked by the answer as he was. Her lips pressed together and she put the mug back down on the table. Tugging at the long sleeves on her scrubs she assessed him with a forced look of composure. "You work for the government?"

"In a kind of round-a-bout way, yeah. I work for SHIELD."

"SHIELD…"

"Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division." When he did answer questions, which wasn't often, it was a sure bet he usually had to explain the name before he could go on, but Erin, he realized after the fact, hadn't asked for details.

"I've heard of it." She told him in a soft voice and the reply threw Clint off course. The typical reply from people was usually them asking to repeat the title or "Huh?" The responses usually brought a bit of annoyance along with it. He couldn't exactly blame anyone, it was a mouthful, but repeating it constantly always wasted valuable time. "A few of your guys came through Bagram a few years ago while I was there."

Clint absorbed the piece of her puzzle that she offered him with a quiet nod. Bagram, the military base in Afghanistan. It wouldn't be unheard of for anyone from SHIELD to show up there. They may not be a part of the US military, but their status did give them the opportunities to use the facilities when the need arose.

"I didn't really know what it was at first." she continued, "They had needed some minor medical work and that was what had been written on their files. I didn't ask questions, but I assumed it was something above my pay grade. I guess I pictured them more like Tony and Ziva and less like Mulder and Scully though."

Clint smiled at the comparison. "It wasn't always like that."

She seemed to appreciate his light tone. "How long have you been there?"

"Too damn long." He masked the thought he had to put into that question. He didn't like to talk about his past. It took only a minute or so to realize he should probably just lay it out so she wouldn't ask him to elaborate. "My parents died when I was six. I grew up in the foster system, going from one house to another to another, never found the right fit. Joined the Army when I was 18, did that for a few years and was so good at it SHIELD took notice. That was almost ten years ago."

"That's a long time."

"Yeah." Just the thought was making some serious old man pain shoot throughout his limbs.

"I had no idea the Army was into archery."

Her attempt at humor made him smile, an actual real and satisfying smile. "Yeah well, the Delta's like to be prepared."

"Delta? Now you're just showing off."

"I've gotta impress you somehow." He surprised himself with the comment but God, he loved the banter with her.

She smiled back, but didn't grab up at the flirtation he had offered. After another long moment of silence where Clint watched on as Erin took small sips from her coffee mug and began to drift towards the thought of kissing her again, she looked back at him. "The person or people that did this to you, is it because of SHIELD or is it something else? Does it have anything to do with…" she stopped, pressing her lips together, a look of uncertainty passing across her face.

"Does it have anything to do with what happened last night?" he supplied the rest of the question and she nodded. It was, Clint realized with a mental sigh. "The truth is that I don't know." He continued, "I don't know who they were, I don't know what they wanted and they didn't exactly give me a lot of information to figure it out on my own and last night…" he took a deep breath, the conversation was beginning to feel strange and his head was starting to hurt as the subject took the inevitable turn towards his, well, exorcist like moments. Clint couldn't deny that Erin was easy to talk to, but until last night, the whole matter had only existed for him. Saying it out loud, discussing it and legitimately bringing her into the fold was going to be hard no matter what.

And he couldn't do it.

"How long has it been happening?" she filled the silence in the room with the carefully chosen words.

"A few weeks now."

She nodded. "It's normal. Traumatic things cause your brain to—"

"This isn't normal." He cut her off, "This is…" he took a ragged breath, the nervous wave reaching over him once more. "This isn't normal. What happened to me wasn't normal.

The atmosphere in the room changed. Clint could feel just as sure as he could feel the clench in his chest every time Loki's memory and voice began to cloud his mind and make him want to rip his head apart.

"You know who Loki is don't you?" he prayed she did, he didn't want to explain that too.

Thankfully she nodded. "Norse Mythology. Loki, the Trickster." She said the words low and with obvious sarcasm.

"Yeah, that's putting it lightly."

"What did he do to you?"

Clint paused, pushing back the pain that wanted to break free at the first invitation he had to release it. Did he want to do that though? He pulled Erin into enough of this already. She didn't need to hear the specifics of Loki mind raping him or the hell he had gone through since then. She had seen the external effects, she didn't need a front seat to the chaos going on inside of him.

He stood up. He needed to get out of here.

Clint…" Erin's voice followed him as he took the steps away from her. He went back into the bedroom, ignoring the dull ache his body made in protest of the quick movements. He went to the Target bags and was dumping the contents out on the unmade bed when she walked in. "What are you doing?" she asked even though it was pretty fucking obvious.

"I can't stay here." He said, frustration renewed when there still weren't a pair of shoes in the damn bags.

She watched on his gave up on the bags and took to ducking underneath the bed. "Clint…"

Seeing nothing under the bed he rose again, his position turning him towards her dresser. The two guns he had brought with him sat on the top and though he was thankful, he pushed past her in silence to go to them. Both were still loaded, safety on. He caught Erin's frown as he shoved each into the waist of his jeans. "I need my shoes." He told her.

Her arms crossed over her chest. "No." The reply probably wasn't as firm as she wanted it to be, but it showed her quick change of mind from just a few minutes before in the living room. He wasn't going to get out here easily at all.

"Erin, don't do this. You know I can't stay here."

She continued to stare at him, her gaze hardening into an intense glare.

"I am not pulling you into this mess all right? I'm not just playing a game here. The two guys that did this to me, they work for someone who wants me dead and I'll bet everything I have that they wouldn't think twice about taking you out too for helping me."

She absorbed what he said with an uncomfortable breath. "Those guys," she started after a moment, "Where are they now?"

"Dead." He was blunt about that. No more sugar coating shit. Maybe scaring her would make her see reason.

"You killed them?"

"That's what I do. I kill people." His eyes held hers in a strong, straight line. "I kill people when I'm told to and I kill people who try to kill me. I kill people who deserve it and people who don't. I shoot and stay around long enough to be sure the job is done before getting out of there and making sure there is no trace of myself left behind. I'm not Captain Fucking America okay? I'm not the good guy and I'm lacking in the morality department." His jaw tightened and his heart began to race. "And it's all unpredictable. My mind can be turned so easily. I could be your best friend one second and try to strangle you to death the next! Do you get that?" as the imagine of trying to stab a knife into Natasha's neck on the helicarrier zapped into his mind, he found himself moving closer to Erin. With the reminder of the sin fresh in his mind he was now intent on putting even more emphasis on the fear, but something else was taking him over. He began to quake. He could hear the tremor in his voice and feel the emotions begin to brim. "Do you fucking get that at all?!"

She didn't waver. He was standing there, inches from her face, screaming at her in all of his psychotic glory and she barely budged. Her eyes even held on. She didn't turn away from him, she didn't look like she was on the verge of tears, she just looked at him. And it infuriated him even more.

"NO ONE DOES!" he screamed. He amplified his fury more for himself than anything else, he realized. It felt good to scream, maybe he'd punch a wall next. In fact, that did feel like a pretty damn good idea, so he turned around and did it. Between the window and the dresser he slammed a fist straight into the bare spot of the blue painted wall. And then he did it again, and again until Erin suddenly found her voice and stopped him. Her hands came over his shaking fist, covering the sore knuckles with a soft touch. She guided him back to the bed and sat him down.

Clint shook with every move. The push of his emotions to the surface had taken more out of him than he could have anticipated. He felt weak, but oddly free. Even as his head fell into his hands and he leaned forward into the stereotypical "my head hurts" position he still felt his body sigh in relief. And, surprisingly he now felt some comfort in Erin's silence. She had sat down next to him on the bed, giving him the relief of her presence without adding more noise into his already throbbing head.

Even as he began to settle down and allowed himself to sit back up, she stayed, only moving once to lace her hand through his and give a squeeze.

He squeezed back giving her his silent gratitude.

* * *

*** I hope you enjoyed this super long chapter! I broke away from Clint's traditional backstory here and I hope that doesn't throw anyone too badly. I think him being prior military can fit into his character though. As always reviews and kudos are welcome (I might be a bit addicted to them, but no pressure or anything!) See you again at Chapter 9!***


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

There was no right way to follow what had happened.

Erin's chest was tight and pained as she sat there with Clint, staring at the hole he had put his fist through and held his hand like he was as familiar to her as Brian was. Nothing about it felt uncomfortable or odd, in fact the act itself didn't feel as if it were enough. She had to stop herself from moving closer, putting a chin on his shoulder and hugging him closer.

His admissions had hurt her, but probably not in the way he had intended them to. She had listened to him, but had read so much more in between the words. He had killed people, people who hadn't deserved to die and her gut told her it was the mythical monster that had made him do it. She questioned whether mind control was even a thing, but after everything that had happened, how could she deny the possibility? Parts of the city were in ruins, men were coming back from the dead, billionaires flew around in robotic suits and black holes opened in the sky… mind control seemed simple by comparison. The thought of that alone formed an overwhelming fear and pain inside of her.

She wasn't sure how long they sat there together, but Clint was the one to finally break it. His jaw tight, he released her hand and stood up, pulling both the guns out of the waist of his jeans and setting them back on her dresser. Erin watched him pause after, his head falling once more and he relaxed his weight against the piece of furniture. Even with his back to her she saw his loss and defeat. When he finally turned back around to face her, his face was contorted and lined with unshed tears and misery, but there was also a hint of relief. It was small, but Erin could clearly recognize it.

Before either one of them could say a word though, the phone that Clint had brought with him that had been kept on the nightstand for the last few days began to light up and vibrate. It had done that a lot since he had arrived, but Erin had always turned a blind eye to it. It never seemed right to pick it up, no matter how extreme Clint's situation had been, but it was always the same number and name that had popped up.

 _Natasha._

It had briefly crossed Erin's mind over the last few days that Natasha might have been his girlfriend, but if there was any question of that remaining it was dashed by the lack of panic on Clint's face as he stepped around and reached for the phone. Instinct told her that they were close, whoever the girl was and as she watched him stare at the phone briefly and then decline the call with a look of regret, her suspicions felt validated.

Erin took a breath, unsure of her words. "Does she know?"

He got what she was implying and as he put the phone in his pocket he shook his head. "Not as much as you."

Even if Erin could have thought to a reply to that it wouldn't have mattered. Clint had turned and left the room with the words still hanging in the air. She could hear him move into the living room and the slight squeak of the recliner as he sat down. Unsure of what to do next, but knowing that it was best to give him some time by himself, Erin turned back to the damaged wall and absorbed the quiet for herself.

She sat there for a long time thinking. There were several times where she questioned and regretted what she had brought out of him. Talking was good, she knew that. If something was eating you to hell on the inside, getting it out was the first step to making it better. That was something she knew better than anyone. Talking was one thing though, unleashing violence and punching a whole through her bedroom wall was something else. The regret stuck with her. Even when she gave up on her thoughts and grabbed some clothes from the dresser and closet. It followed her into the bathroom where she shut the door and started the shower. It hung in the air with the steam as she washed away the last day and stuck to her as she blow dried her hair and put on some make up.

" _I kill people."_

He had said it like it was nothing at all. Like he was telling her that his favorite movie was Return of the Jedi, or at the very least that was what his tone had said. His eyes said something else, something she couldn't describe. Whatever it was it hadn't stopped the pull she felt towards him. The need to be close was almost over powering and while much of it was based in wanting to help him, there was another part that was selfishly going for just sating the lust that he seemed to ignite whenever he looked at her.

Erin stopped her thoughts and gave herself a glare into the bathroom mirror. She needed to get a hold of herself. If she had sex more this probably wouldn't be an issue.

 _Maybe._

 _Probably._

 _Damn it!_

She left the bathroom, making sure her robe was secured around her and went back into her room to find some clothes. A quick glance at the digital alarm clock on her nightstand told her it was nearing 11:30. She had to be at work at 1 and calling out sick would just piss off the head nurse. Irritation filled Erin. She got a clean pair of scrubs out of her dresser. Purple floral print ones that she wore a pink long sleeved shirt under. Once dressed she went to the closet and slipped on a pair of shoes and with a moments hesitation, grabbed the plastic Target bag she had thrown in there a few days before. Unsure of what else to do, bag in hand, she walked into the living room.

Clint was no longer in the recliner. He was no standing by the window that led out to her fire escape, taking in the view with a serious expression on his face, but turned as soon as she stepped through the doorway that separated her bedroom from the living room. With a deep breath, Erin set the bag down on the couch as he watched from the other side of the room. "Shoes." She told him. "And your wallet and some other things you had in your pockets that night."

His gaze went down.

"You can stay." She kept going. "I still want you to, but if you want to leave, I understand why." Her heart seemed to crack at the words and Erin had to take her own breather to make sure she didn't turn into a blubbering mess on him. Maybe it was better to just leave? He could let himself out, be gone when she came home that night. She was a mixed mess of emotions. She needed to leave. That was the only thing she could do, but even as she willed her feet to turn, they didn't. They stayed glued to the spot she was in and gulping back, her voice decided to join the defiance.

She had to tell him why. She had to let him know that she understood.

"That night at the bar, when I saw you, it was like looking at myself in a mirror a year and half ago." She began to admit. "I knew the pain you were in, or at least I thought I did and I understood that impulse you had to separate yourself from everything because of the hell going on inside your head. I felt the same things." Her chin began to shake as the images she tried so hard to keep private began to rush out. "I told you I was in Afghanistan. I've been there twice and if you didn't know, I'm a nurse in the Air National Guard. A flight nurse. Normally that keeps me on a plane or a helicopter or something like that, but when we're understaffed at the hospital or with a MEDEVAC team, I fill in." her speech felt out of order and the moment didn't feel exactly right, but was there ever going to be a right and comfortable way to talk about it?

"About two years ago, the last time I was there, I was tasked to go out with a team to pick up a Marine that had been wounded in a firefight. It was supposed to be a simple in and out thing. Myself and another guy from my squadron, Mj. Nick Beckett, went out with the crew." The tears stung in her eyes as she recalled the memory, but Erin pressed forward. There were two people in the world that had heard her tell the story, Brian and Marty Lewis and whether she was completely healed or not, Clint was going to become the third.

"We got to the landing sight. It's dark, but we found the green smoke signals and touched down. The Marines already had the guy waiting for us, but as soon as we hit the ground insurgent fire came from all around us." As she spoke the sound of the gun fire echoed painfully in Erin's ears, as fresh as it had been that night.

"It was this chaotic hell. Dark, gunfire all around, men screaming, chopper blades running, I'm covered in Kevlar and can barely move, and I'm trying to get this stretcher with this bleeding 21-year-old lance corporal into the chopper and Beckett…" now the tears were coming. Across the room, Clint was watching her, his lips pursed tightly shut, his eyes wet.

"I don't know what happened. I don't know why his vest wasn't on, I don't know how he ended up so far away from the landing site, but he was hit, bad." There was no stopping the tears then. They spurt from her eyes like it was a freed faucet, but even as she chocked back sobs and tried to push out the vision of Beckett falling into the chopper and onto Erin and the panic that followed, she still pushed herself to continue.

"He was gone before we reached the base. He bled out in my arms and there was nothing I could do to stop it." She paused, pressing her tear soaked lips together before adding, "He had a wife and three kids, the youngest was just a baby."

 _Connor, Jake, and Logan, she remembered. His wife was Casey._

"When I got back, I couldn't find it in me to live. I stayed here and I drank and I popped pills and just existed. I cut myself off from everything and everyone. I broke up with my boyfriend, I wouldn't talk to my parents or friends. It wasn't fair, life I realized was so painfully unfair and if a great guy with a family and a t career couldn't make it, why did I deserve to? I tried to kill myself twice." Her shame in the admission was as plain as the nose on her face. "The first time, I just made myself sick and the second, Brian caught me. He was the one that pulled me out of it. He was the one that made me get help. He told me that tragedies happen all the time. There is no reason for it except that there are evil souls in this world. They take without remorse and see it as a victory and the more they take out the more they see themselves as theses all power beings. If I wanted to fight it properly, I needed to make my life worth living, I needed to keep going forward and not let them take me. And he was right so that's what I've done. I work my ass off everyday and try to make my life worth it. When I saw that you that night, I knew you were feeling all of that and I wanted to do for you what Brian had done for me. So that was why I got you to stay. And that's why I wanted you to stay now, but like I said, if you don't want to, if you don't think you should, then you can go."

The admission, the detailed glimpse into her life that she gave him, seemed to all come out in one big rush despite the tears that rolled down her face as she spoke. Erin sniffed and wiped at her cheeks with the pads of her fingers, still feeling the effects of the painful memories with a shaking heart. Clint stared back at her, still by the window, this distance between suddenly felt like it could snuggly hold a huge ocean instead of just the few feet that it actually was. He probably didn't know what to say and she couldn't blame him. He probably realized how sane he was now and how insane she was.

Finally, after some pretty long and painful seconds, Erin had enough. She leaned over and snatched up her messenger bag from the floor by the couch. "I have to go to work."

Clint was quick to step forward. "Erin—"

"No." she stopped him, shaking her head, "You have what you need and I said what I needed to, just…lock up on your way out, okay?" she grabbed her keys off the hook and opened the door, not being to look at the shock on his face any longer.

He didn't seem to care about any of that though and was suddenly beside her, putting an arm out to block her path. The move forced her to look up at him and into his eyes which seemed to lock onto hers with sympathetic force. God help her, she wanted to fall into his arms like a weak little girl and let him comfort her. With those eyes on hers she just wanted him to kiss away her tears and make the memories disappear. She continued to stare him, acknowledging how easy it would be to let that happen. To close the few inches in between them and press her lips to his…to feel his arms around her…

But then she stopped. Erin pulled back and shook her head. It was unclear why, but she needed to resist this. Her silent move somehow translated clearly to Clint and he dropped his arm from the door frame, freeing her way out.

"Bye Clint." She said fast and fled.


	10. Chapter 10

Just for a moment I'd like to talk about the sheer hell I've been through in the last few weeks writing this chapter. I wrote it one way…didn't like it. Went another direction and hated it and then wrote pages and pages that I LOVED and my computer crashed. I'm sure all together I wrote about 50,000 words. So for everyone who is still here and still wanting to read, thank you so much for that. I about gave up on myself there for awhile. Fingers crossed nothing like that happens to me ever again! 😉

Chapter Ten

That was it.

When Erin disappeared from sight, the door shutting hard in her wake and Clint was left alone in the apartment, still reeling from the events of the whole morning, he realized he was fucking fed up. The black outs and emerging memories had bad enough, almost getting murdered by two unknown goons had sucked too, but then dragging a girl into the clusterfuck, one that he barely knew, unleashing a torrent of shit on her and then failing her when she tried to connect with him over it added a heaping dose of guilt and shame onto his insanity.

He was fucking done. The proverbial last straw had been thrown in and that was it. That was fucking it.

He should have left that morning, shoes, or no shoes, and saved her the pain. All of the crap that had gone down in the last few hours was on him, right down to the hole he had punched in her bedroom wall and he needed to fix it. He was done being a prisoner to the mind control, he was done with guys breaking into his hotel room and trying to put bullets in his body, he was done with hiding, he was done with hurting Erin.

He was really done with hurting Erin. Hearing her words, watching her break down in front of him, had ripped his heart in half and shot an unfamiliar shock of pain inside of him. And even though she was now gone, the feeling still lingered and the image of her standing in front of him, bearing her soul to him was permanently etched into his mind. He wasn't going to let this get worse.

 _He l…well he liked her way too much to do that._

Driven now, he grabbed his shoes, put them on and stuffed his wallet into the back of his jeans. He got the guns once again from the dresser and put both in his waist band and grabbed an old FDNY cap on the hook by the door before leaving the apartment. Stealing was fucked up, but he needs something to keep the huge gash on his head covered. He was halfway down the staircase, out of the building and away from furthering the damage he had caused when he heard a crash and a scream…and then more screaming. He was turning back and heading towards the source before he even realized it. It was all instinct and engaged senses and he followed it fast. It wasn't coming from Erin's apartment, but from the floor below it.

"You piece of shit!" he heard as he turned the corner. The owner of the angry voice was a tall slim blonde, early twenties for sure, wearing denim shorts and a loose green shirt. She was barefoot, holding her flip flops in her hand and directing her anger towards Brain who stood in his apartment doorway wearing gym shorts and a long sleeve shirt that had either seen better days or had been a recent victim the pissed off blonde.

When his eyes cut to Clint, a visible wince crashed across his face. He turned his attention back to the girl, "Look, baby I—"

"Don't you "Baby" me!" she screamed and then, with some pretty admirable accuracy, launched her last flip flop at Brian's face and hit the target dead on. "A month! We're together a fucking month! You say "Oh I love you!" and you can't stop thinking about me and then you can't even remember my damn name?!"

Brian rubbed at the fresh red mark on his cheek. "Okay, that doesn't mean I don't love you."

Clint found himself biting back a laugh. The knowledge that he had a lot of dramatic bullshit going on was still in his mind, but what was happening in front of him right now was pretty damned hilarious and a welcome distraction. As he stood there containing his laughter though the blonde's eyes flamed and she lunged towards Brian with hands out, ready to strangle. Clint stepped in fast and caught her.

"Douche Bag!" she spat, struggling against Clint's block, "I will end you! I'm going to choke you to death on your own tiny di—"

"Okay, now!" Clint cut in. He didn't need to hear the rest of her threat to know where that graphic description was going. "I think he gets it. Brian, get um…" he loosed his hold on the girl to look face her, "What's your name?"

A face that would normally be pretty cute glared at him with clear thoughts of murder. "Ask Fuck Boy over there!"

"Okay," he turned back to Brian, "Name?"

Brian looked at Clint half panicked. After a long moment of struggling and growing increasingly weak under Clint's own glare though he dared to say, "I want to say…Julie?"

"JAMIE!" and she lunged for him again, forcing Clint to be the barrier between the two again.

"Brian, give Jamie her shoes!" Clint ordered, "Jamie, ugh…make better decisions about your footwear and the guys you date, okay?"

Jamie shot Clint another glare and pushed herself out of his grasp. She snatched away the thin flip flops that Brian meekly held out to her and grabbed her purse from the floor. "This isn't over." She directed at Brian, "I'm going to tell everyone about the asshole that you are!"

The threat was immature and clearly didn't hold water, but Brian cowered back, still amused, anyway. Clint stayed by the door as a sort of protective wall for Brian until Jamie finally disappeared around the corner of the hall, the heavy door to the stairs slamming behind her. When he finally looked over at Brian he saw the amused look from just seconds before had faded and in its place was one that seemed to be a mix of exhaustion and nausea; obvious Hungover-ness or whatever you call it. Clint wasn't a fucking dictionary. Despite it though, Brian forced a lopsided smile onto his face,

"God, I could get used to having you around. Would you have gone all Robin Hood on her ass if I gave you the okay?"

Clint stared at him for a second before finding his wit among the mess that had just occurred. Finally, he shook his head, "I owe you a lot, Brian, but not that much."

Brian snorted. "Yeah, well, worth a try huh?" he turned back into his apartment. "Want a beer?" he called back.

"Um…" forced to follow Brian's disappearing form to keep the conversation going, he stepped inside the apartment and shut the door. "Are you sure a beer is what you need right now?" His tone was full of old man judgement, but he knew he was grateful for the continued distraction that pulled him farther and farther away from leaving.

"Best thing I know to cure a hangover." Brian called back to him. Clint found the living room, but Brian's voice was clearly coming from the kitchen on the other side of it. His head appeared a few seconds later as he stood up from the open fridge door, two bottles of Sam Adams in his hands.

"You look like you're about to puke all over the place." Clint told the truth as Brian approached and handed off the bottle.

"Yeah already did that this morning on Jessica so I'm not too worried." He went to the couch, covered in laundry and empty popcorn bags and pushed it all to the floor so he could sit down. As he popped the lid off and threw it to the side, he gave Clint a silent go-ahead to the same.

The apartment though similar in layout to Erin's clearly belonged to a single guy. The couch in the living room was leather, probably something fairly decent like Ikea leather at some point, but now it was too faded and worn to tell. Large sheets had been tacked to the window as makeshift curtains and the only kind of décor on the walls were two posters and a calendar from two years ago. The only thing he could see that had been given any amount of attention was the 86 inch flat screen TV mounted on the wall and the PlayStation 4 connected to it.

Clint opened the beer he didn't really want and finally sat down. He took a drink as he watched Brian. He still wore the shirt with the torn neck, but his amused expression from the hall was gone, in its place was one of pale exhaustion. He pressed the conversation forward though,

"So what's the good word from upstairs? Where's Erin?"

The mention of her made Clint swallow big a bitter taste of a nauseous guilt. "Work." He managed to reply after a few seconds.

"And I didn't get called up to babysit? Nice. So you must not only look better, you must feel better too?"

"Yeah, thanks." Despite himself now, Clint found his body sliding down onto the other side of the couch and took another few drinks of beer. The two sat in silence for a long time, drinking, taking in the non-existent atmosphere around them before Clint finally let it out. "I need to get out of here, man."

"I doubt Erin gave her approval for that." Brian said after a good gulp from the bottle.

"No, no she didn't." Clint took a drink. A long swig of the cheap beer was better than nothing he supposed. "We talked this morning and um…I just don't think she needs me around."

From the corner of his eyes Clint saw Brian tense and pull the beer bottle away from his lips. He slowly brought it down and rested it against his leg, twirling the head of the bottle in thought for a long moment while staring ahead. "She told you huh?"

Clint nodded, "Yeah." The silence between them said the rest.

"I figured she might." He shook his head as the atmosphere between faded into the dark discussion. "It's a lot to take in. She told you everything?"

"Yeah, all of it, well I think so anyway. That's what it seemed like."

Brian struggled for the words that came next. "Suicides?"

Clint simply looked back at him. Acknowledging the subject just didn't seem right.

Brian nodded. "Yeah, well you're one of the few then. She doesn't tell anyone, hell she hasn't even tell her own parents." He shook his head in disapproval, "Didn't tell the Air Force, she wouldn't have even said anything to me if I hadn't walked in on her the last time she tried She just doesn't tell anyone. Just keeps it in and drags it around with her like some dead animal on her back." He paused and then took another drink. "She tells herself she's dealt with it, but all she's doing is non- consistently taking the anti-depressants that the military throws at her like candy and being a dedicated workaholic."

"How did she do it?"

"First time, pills. That was a few months after she got home from Afghanistan." The truth he spoke was clearly painful and added another shade of pale to his face. "I feel stupid because I didn't catch the signs at the time. I don't know, she like came home, we all met her at the airport; me, my parents, hers, Mike—"

"Mike?"

"Then boyfriend."

Clint nodded, acknowledging a slight sting that quickly faded against the emotional havoc Brian's words were having on his heart and mind.

"Yeah well anyway. A few weeks went by, I thought we were kind of settling back into life. It was her second tour so I knew how things went, ya know? She slept a lot, started back at the hospital and worked a lot and never really came into the bar, but I just thought it was an adjustment. Then she breaks up with Mike. They had been together a couple of years, but he hadn't been around for the first tour and I figured it was just one of those things, ya know? It's hard, right? You hear about military relationships busting up all the time, I thought that was what had happened. Mike was a good guy, he's from Williamsburg, he's a cop and they were good for one another, but I didn't even think her breaking up with him was anything more than just relationship shit." He shook his head, his expression darkening, "I kick myself for that every day."

Clint swallowed back, catching the clear pain that Brian felt over something that hadn't been his fault.

"Anyway, "he took a breath, "She took the pills a couple nights after the break-up. I was right downstairs and didn't even know. I don't know what it was, but she said she threw it all right back up. Spent the next twelve hours on the bathroom floor alternating between barfing and passing out."

"Fuck…" Clint muttered.

"Yep and even in the days and weeks after, I didn't see it."

"That's more common than you think, man." Clint could speak from experience on that one.

Brian nodded. "Second time was with my dads .45. My parents live a few streets down and with hers living upstate and all of us being so close, she was over there often enough, had a key and all that. It's her place just as much as it's mine or theirs. I'm sure she just went in at some point and got it out my dads closet. I was working the bar that night again and needed to come up here for something and decided to go to her place before going back down. Didn't even knock, because I never knock and I walked right in on her holding the thing and I just knew. It hit me like a fucking bag of bricks." He swallowed against the painful memory. "I didn't even think, I just got it away from her and threw it down the garbage shoot. My dad still doesn't know where the damn thing is."

Clint absorbed the memory with a painful swallow. "She hasn't told anyone else?"

"There's an older guy at the hospital, he's a "sometimes" patient, he knows. Hell if I know why, but no one other than myself and now you. She hasn't said anything to anyone and she's sworn me to secrecy too. I guess since she told you that gives me permission though."

"The Air Force doesn't know anything?"

Brian shook his head. "Nope. They put her through some mandatory counseling when she got back and whenever she's active they give her "just in case" pills, or that's what it seems like to me, but other than that, no. They just assume everything is fine and she keeps doing her one weekend a month, two weeks a year, kicking ass at it like she always does. She told me if they did find out, the military career would be out the window. She'd be a liability they didn't want. Fuck if I know why she wants to stay in though."

Clint did. He didn't say it out loud, but the answer to why was clear to him.  
 _To save those that needed saving._

His reason for joining the Army and ultimately SHIELD had been the same; saving, protecting. He wanted to give the very thing he had been denied in his childhood and he wanted to use the talent he had to do it. Somewhere along the way, maybe when his parents had died or when he was being shuffled from one foster home to the next, he had come to value both the idea of safety and depending on himself to get things done. The whole thing wasn't built on a foundation on what was right or wrong or black and white to him, but there was a lot of comfort in that ethically positive gray area he had existed in for so long. A soldier, an assassin…he saved people, he protected the world, he took the steps needed to make the ultimate outcome occur.

At least that was how he had seen it until recently.

Still, sitting there on that beat-up couch next to a guy he barely knew, Clint found that the thought of Saving and Protecting was still very much in his mind. He felt the pull to do it even know after everything that had happened and it was for that reason that he knew the answer to the question that had been asked. Erin existed in another area of the gray world, but her goals were the same…even after everything that had happened to her.

As the thoughts turned around in Clint's mind, silence fell in the room between him and Brian. Both continued to take drinks from their bottles and both let whatever was going on in their heads take over. When Clint drained the last of the beer he set the empty down on the floor in front of him. Brian was a few seconds behind and seemed to suddenly pull himself back into consciousness at the idea that Clint no longer had the beer to anchor him to the apartment. "You know she doesn't care about the fact that you're an Avenger right?"

Clint inhaled, both at the sudden words and the hate he had for the label. He hated what it meant, hated what it made him feel, hated that it was apparently such common knowledge. True to form though, Brian didn't let an obvious discomfort stop him from saying what he wanted.

"She doesn't care that people are trying to kill you. She doesn't care that there is shit you won't or can't tell her. She doesn't care that she had to stitch up your bleeding ass after someone tried to kill or that have some freakish bow and arrow abilities that defy the laws of physics. She doesn't care about any of that bullshit." He leaned forward. "She just cares about you."

Absorbing Brian's words, Clint sat for a long while, his gaze straight down to the floor. He didn't doubt the truth in what had been said, but hearing it outloud made more of a difference to him than he thought it would. He looked up at Brian, "You don't think I should leave?"

"I think it would be fucked up if you did." He was brutally honest. "Even if she wasn't basically my sister, I'd tell you that."

Clint smirked. "Are you sure about that?"

"Did you not see the fucking crazy that just left here? There's a million others even worse out there too. Trust me, Jill is just the tip of the fucking iceberg."

"Jamie."

"Whatever." He replied, showing he was every bit the asshole that Jamie said he was, but Clint was still slightly humored by it. "Just stay, man. If you leave you're just going to piss her off and then she'll never marry you and have your babies. Lose-lose situation for everyone."

Shit was just becoming weird now. "Are you sure you're not still drunk from last night?" Clint asked.

"Hell, I might be. I think I'm starting to see sounds…" As he said that, words slurring and all, Brian fell back against the couch. Clint watched as he slid down into some half fetal position and swallowed back a choke of nausea. "I regret the vodka. And the Irish car bombs. I regret them so hard."

Clint got up, doing his best to hold back his laughter and gave Brian the space he needed to stretch out. He grabbed the lidless trashcan from the kitchen and set it near Brian's head before going back and finding a clean glass to fill with water. Brian was more than halfway to passed out when he returned. Clint handed him the water. "Stay hydrated."

"Uh huh."

"Where's your phone?"

Brian pointed to the TV stand as he attempted to sit up and put his lips to the glass. Clint grabbed it, found it unlocked and added his phone number to Contacts. "Text me if you need anything, okay?"

Brian put the glass down on the floor and collapsed back against the couch. "But no dick pics right?"

Clint rolled his eyes as he set the phone down within reach, "Right."

"Staying?"

Clint nodded, "Yeah, I'm staying."

He had some shit he needed to get done first, but yeah, he was definitely staying.


	11. Chapter 11

Thanks so much for all of the wonderful reviews you guys have taken the time to leave! I love them and am so grateful for the great critiques to push me forward. Enjoy!

Chapter Eleven

Erin took advantage of the empty seat next to her and propped both of her tired feet up, leaning back against hard bar that separated the bench from the train door. There were only a few other people in the car with her. She could tell they were there, but like her they kept to themselves, found their own places and took advantage of the open space that you could only on a subway this time of night. Shinedown played softly through the ear buds she had put in after her shift had ended, the lyrics to "Simple Man" soft and soothing against the mental and physical exhaustion she felt. To say the day had been long was a total understatement. Twelve hours on shift at the ICU after everything that had happened that morning had been absolute hell. Even Rachelle, the head nurse, had noticed her defeat and taken her aside before she had left asking if she needed anything. Rachelle was in her fifties, was short, fiery and was known to curse the entire staff under her breath in Spanish when they pissed her off, but she also had a heart of gold and an excellent intuition. She knew Erin was lying when she denied that anything was wrong and promptly told her to take some time off to decompress.

"No, I can't." Erin had told her. She was leaving next Friday for Guard training. She couldn't take more time off on top of that.

Rachelle disagreed though. "You've got weeks of leave built up because you never take a vacation, use it. We'll be fine here."

Still Erin fought her though and after ten minutes of going back and forth, Erin walked away with strict orders not to come back until the Tuesday after next. She had never taken that long of break in her life, but as she had more time to think it over on the walk to the station, the more comfortable she became with the idea of all that free time. It would give her the opportunity to catch up on school work, sleep and give her a chance to be miserable for hours on end, alone, in her apartment.

She couldn't wait to get started on that.

But the thought of empty apartment pretty much doubled her dark mood. With the whole day to focus on it, she had realized everything she had done wrong earlier with Clint, the most damaging of which was panicking and running out of her own apartment. Now the feelings of regret, fear and heartbreak were so damn overwhelming she wanted to puke.

Crossing her arms in front of her, Erin pressed the grip against her chest. The train rattled and the harsh fluorescents flickered, Shinedown ended and Collective Soul began.

"… _All your weight, it falls on me, it brings me down…"_

When the train stopped the force of it pressed Erin's back harder in the bars and made her pop her head up and her eyes open. The unwelcome movement came just in time for her to sense someone enter the train from the door behind her, pass and then sit down on her bench. She completely ignored Erin's feet on the bench and made herself comfortable, crossing her legs and propping an arm up on the ledge. Remaining in her position and pulling her ear buds out, Erin looked at her feeling suddenly self-conscious about her wrinkled scrubs and messy pony tail because the woman beside her was gorgeous; dark red hair, full lips and eyes that looked right through her. She was put together and perfect…and also very familiar.

She gave Erin a small closed lipped smile, "Catching you alone hasn't been easy."

Erin stared at her, familiarity quickly turning to realization. The pieces came together more slowly than they had when she had first identified Clint, probably because she was tired and there were so many extra variables to consider. It came together though and as it did, her posture moved from semi relaxed to slightly on guard. She let her feet drop to the floor and turned on the bench, letting Natasha's presence take permanent command over the bench.

 _Natasha_ …The silence didn't seem to bother her, she continued to look on Erin with a sweet expression, acting like they were old friends from high school who had just happened to run into one another on the train, but finally after another long silent minute had passed she spoke.

"Do I need to introduce myself or—"

"I know who are." Erin could feel her throat clench as she spoke.

"Good, I like a level field." She was smiling as she spoke, but Erin's invisible defense shields remained up. She knew very little about Natasha and what she did know was based mostly on assumptions. She wasn't going to go into this meeting without being a little cautious.

"If you're looking for him, I don't know where he is."

"He's still at your apartment." Natasha informed her "Or at least he was ten minutes ago. I could check again if you want me to." She pulled out her phone as she spoke, unlocking the screen and bringing up a map that looked like it was straight from Google Earth. Eric could clearly see it focused on her street in Brooklyn. The tell tale red dot hovered over the area where her apartment was. "Still there." She said and locked the phone back up, putting it back in her pocket.

Erin eyed Natasha, "Did you inject him with a GPS chip when he wasn't looking?"

"His phone, but if you knew Clint, you'd know how necessary that was." The cut came out her perfectly lined red lips so fast and smooth, it took Erin a second to catch the insult. "Did he tell you he was leaving?"

Erin didn't answer. Partially because of the insult, partially because it was a complicated answer she didn't want to get into.

She stopped, her heading tilting slightly to the left. "You're protective of him."

Erin sighed and stared ahead. The atmosphere in the train car was suddenly suffocating. The "Trish Talk" poster on the wall across from her suddenly become very interesting and she focused on it so she could fully ignore the observation. She knew it was true, but it didn't feel good hearing it out loud. It made her feel like one of those crazy girls Brian would attract. The ones that were in love with him after two days and ready to marry him and kill anyone who stood in their way after three. She could count the serious relationships she had had on one hand and never had she gotten _that_ attached to anyone of them. Even Mike, arguably the one she had probably been the most serious about. They had been together for over two years, they had been in love, they acted like they were basically married before she had left on that last deployment. He had stuck with her the entire time she had been gone, Skyping at odd hours of the night, dealing with the entire separation like a pro. He had been perfect and doing the forever thing would have been easy. And that was the reason she could barely stomach looking at him when she had come home…But damn it, she could feel some crazy instinct to protect Clint burning inside of her despite all of that.

"You don't need to feel threatened by me, Erin." Natasha's voice came up through the haze.

"I'm not." Erin came back, sure of the answer. She wasn't, even though the girl was acting like she was acting like the wife Clint forgot to tell her had. "It would be nice if you got to the point though. I'm sure my secret government NSA file already told you I'm a pretty straightforward person who tries to avoid drama."

"Which is a bit odd given your Netflix history of binging Downton Abbey and Grey's Anatomy."

 _What the hell?_

To cover her uncomfortable shock, Erin crossed her arms and threw all she had into her wit. "Clint's charming, but he is no Matthew Crawley."

"I guess we've found something to agree on." Natasha smiled again, this time it seemed to be more relaxed though and Erin could feel some of the tension disappear between the two of them. "Straight forward though, I just want to know if he's okay. He won't return my calls or messages and after everything that happened, I'm worried. He's disappeared before, he's done the whole radio silence thing before, but the circumstances this time…"

The genuine concern was obvious and so was Erin's empathy. If it were any other two people she probably would have asked why Natasha was trailing her to get answers about Clint when she could have easily gone to him and asked directly, but she was getting the feeling that these two didn't work like that. Who the hell knew why, but they didn't.

"He's fine." Erin told her. "Physically fine, anyway."

Natasha nodded, taking the meaning from Erin's words directly. "I anticipated that." She turned her gaze heavy on Erin. "Honestly, is he handling it?"

Erin gauged the seriousness of the question for a long moment, considering the answer she needed to give. The train stopped, but she barely noticed it or the passengers that exited. She waited until the movement under her became steady once more before she took a breath and said to Natasha, "He's fighting it."

"He remembers?"

The incident from that morning still fresh on her mind, Erin nodded. She was grateful that Natasha didn't press for details on that one because she really really did not want to repeat the story of innocent people dying and that psychotic Loki using Clint's mind and body like his own personal Sims character. Clint had told her that she "knew more" than Natasha, but she Erin had a feeling the woman sitting next to her wasn't completely ignorant on the subject.

"I shouldn't say it," Natasha said uncertainly, "But SHIELD is conducting an investigation. Being Captain Sutton of the Air National Guard, you know that after something like this, that's standard protocol, but this is different. Clint has a lot of support, people who believe the story and know that he would never consciously do anything like that, there are many that think otherwise though."

"They think he knew what he was doing?" Seriously, were they really discussing this on the subway? The Department of Defense had gifted Erin with "Confidential Security Clearance" a few years back and she was sure what she was being told now did not fall into that category.

"There is evidence that supports it. His knowledge of SHIELD security procedures and other classified information alone is all they need to question it. They want to interrogate him, debrief him on everything, but his disappearance has made that impossible and has only added to the suspicion."

Erin felt her stomach twist into several knots. "Jesus…"

"I've kept them off his trail. I'm the only one that has access to this," she held up her phone for indication of the GPS, "And it's best if it stays that way for now."

"Don't you think you should tell him this?"

"No." the word was firm and sent a clear message to Erin not fight with her on the decision. "Those two men in the hotel room…" she continued, "That's only a taste of what could happen if he exposes himself, which he is in danger of doing if he found out about all of this. I would put my life in his hands at any other time, in fact I have on many occasions, but right now, he's not himself. Reprogramming yourself doesn't come easily to anyone. It will make him weaker, more emotional, he'll struggle to separate the mind control from reality and the last thing he will need is more stress to deal with."

"Wait, are you saying those guys that—they work with you?"

"No, I'm not saying that at all. I'm just using the situation as an example. As Agent Barton, he's not trustworthy anymore. As ridiculous as it sounds, there's always someone out there trying to kill us, but we handle it. Now after what happened, it will be even worse." She paused, pressing her lips together before continuing. "I have no idea who sent those two after Clint and I've devoted most of my last week to finding out. Who's to say there aren't more out there ready to do the same?"

Erin looked at Natasha with raised eyebrows. "Why in the hell are you telling me all of this?"

"Because if Clint trusts you, I trust you."

"Just like that?"

A breath of a smile came back to Natasha's lips. "Just like that. I told you, I trust him with my life… I owe him my life." The last sentence was punctuated with an unspoken emotion that made Erin's own heart swell. As different as she felt from Natasha, she could understand that. She felt the same towards Brian.

Neither one of them said anything after that. Erin threw her attention back to the "Trish Talk" poster and, knowing that her stop was next, used the remaining time to pack up her stuff, pull the ear buds out of her phone and put the phone in the pocket of her scrubs. Natasha sat next to her, still perfectly poised, looking like she was preparing for some Vogue photoshoot with the gritty subway train as her edgy setting. As the car came to a stop and the door opened, Erin was prepared to say a kind of good-bye to her, but Natasha surprised her by standing up herself and exited with Erin. Once they were in the empty station, cement pillars and peeling paint surrounding them, Natasha held her hand out, "Can I see your phone?"

Unsure, Erin reached into her pocket and handed the phone over. She watched on for a few seconds while Natasha, having no trouble at all, tapped against the screen without any trouble. When she handed it back, Erin glanced at the screen. "Meredith?" she asked looking at the new contact.

"If you need anything." Natasha told her as if it were completely natural that she could easily break into a phone and add info like that. "Are you scared?"

"No more than I already was." Erin replied, keeping it deliberately cryptic.

"Good." Natasha replied. There wasn't a hint of sympathy in her tone, but to be fair there wasn't a hint of anything in her voice. She was all emotionless business now apparently. "You look like you want to ask me something."

Erin shrugged her shoulders as the train pulled out beside them. "Trying to figure you out."

Natasha raised an eyebrow, impressed. "Good luck with that."

 _Holy fucking awkwardness…_

"Yeah, well, I'd better get home."

"Yeah, I'm sure Clint is wondering where you are."

Erin couldn't tell if that was another quip, but she really didn't care, she was too relieved that this meeting had come to an end. "Wait," she suddenly stopped herself and Natasha from turning away, "Did you do that GPS thing on my phone too?"

"Please, we hardly know one another."

Erin stared at her, absolutely sure she was lying and at the same time absolutely sure she was telling the truth. Sensing the conflict Natasha smiled brightly in some weird victory at Erin and put her hands into the pockets of her dark blue leather jacket.

"I'll see you around, Erin." Then she turned and walked away without any other hint of acknowledgement. Erin watched, almost dumbfounded, as she disappeared up the concrete stairs that led to the street.

Erin stood in the spot she was in, holding her phone going over what happened in her head and dwelling on it long enough for two more trains to move through the area. Eventually, she realized how dumb it was to stand there and biting her lip, put the potentially lowjacked iphone in the pocket of her scrubs. Turning, she left and exited the station, following the path Natasha had made minutes before, going up to the dark, familiar and oddly comforting Brooklyn sidewalk.

A million thoughts ran through her mind during the short walk home and by the time she reached her building, she felt somewhat sure of herself. She let the heavy side door slam behind her and made quick steps up the flights to her floor. Pulling out her keys, she unlocked the door and let herself into the apartment. Inside she was greeted with the sight and scent of a freshly cleaned room. The bedding on the couch was gone, the rug had been vacuumed, the dishwasher was running and even the kitchen table had cleaned off and wiped down. The room was empty though and the only tell tale sign that the place wasn't empty was the soft hum of music coming from her bedroom. Erin pulled the key from the deadbolt and moved in to shut the door. She followed the sound, almost shocked to find Clint at the source, cleaning up next to the wall he had put a hole through that morning. It was freshly patched now, the standard white paint standing out against the slate blue of the area around it.

He looked up when she entered. "Hey." He smiled.

"Hi," she smiled back, her heart doing a fast drum against her chest. Even though she knew he was there, seeing him was still a warm surprise. She stepped further into the room and looked around, seeing that he had cleaned up in there too, even making the bed with the same military smoothness that she had been taught in basic training. "You've been busy."

"Figured it was the least I could do." He replied. "You don't mind, do you?"

"No," she said quickly, "No. I really appreciate it. I can't remember the last time anyone did the dishes for me or made my bed. Thanks."

He smiled, looking too hot for Erin's eyes. The jeans and t-shirt hugged his body in all of the right areas, right down to his perfectly formed arms…She could feel her knees go weak and her blood heat up.

"Erin, about this morning—"

Erin closed her eyes and sighed. "Don't."

"I fucked up." He told her, pulling her gaze back to him, "You caught me off guard and I…I never would have imagined that you had—"

She didn't want to hear it.

She had been thinking about it all day. And between that weight and the shit that had just taken place on the subway, she was done for the day. Absolutely, done.

Her heart pushed her forward. He expected something, but it probably wasn't her closing the distance between them and pressing her lips to his. She felt the pull to drive away the his apology and the uncertainty between them. She wanted to end the stupid dance they were doing around one another. It wasn't rushed or urgent, it was a soft kiss, one that would spell out everything she was feeling because her brain couldn't find the words.

And he didn't hesitate. He replied with the same intensity, not wasting a moment to wrap his strong arms around her.

Erin's fingers glided to the back of Clint's head and threaded through his hair. His hands moved to her upper back, his lips now firmer and stronger against hers and Erin felt herself beginning to slip into some passion filled oblivion. It was incredible and damn it, she wanted more of it. When Clint's hands hit the strap to her bag, he suddenly pulled back and with a slight growl and a smile, pulled the bag over her head and dropped it on the floor.

"Kissing you sober might be my new favorite thing." He said with another grin before sweeping her off the floor and putting her down on the freshly made bed. Erin laughed, the whole night, the whole day forgotten about in the moment. He laid down beside her and brushed his hand against her cheek. His blue eyes were soft and filled with silent emotion that made Erin's heartbeat speed up. The playful atmosphere disappeared and one thick with passion replaced it.

"You're so beautiful." He told her and despite the fact that she was wearing shapeless scrubs, had her hair in a messy pony tail and felt tired as hell, she believed his words and felt beautiful under his gaze.

His phone was still on in the background and as a song she didn't recognize ended, "Everlong" by the Foo Fighters began to play. Erin's hand caressed Clint's arm, her eyes still holding his gaze. "High school make out music."

He grinned down at her, "How old are you?"

"It's really sad you don't know that."

"You can vote right?" he teased.

Erin smiled at the joke. "Was the battle at Gettysburg really as bad as the history books make it seem?"

"Ouch." He laughed. "I guess you'd better show this old man how this make out music works then."

"I'm out of practice, but I guess I could give it a shot."

He lowered his head, his nose brushing against hers. 'Good." He breathed against her skin, before capturing her lips once more.


	12. Chapter 12

Lord, what is with me and these large gaps between chapters? Hopefully I've still got some readers out there! I'm trying my hardest to break out of this rut I have found myself in because I love this story and my characters way too much to give up on them. Hope you guys enjoy!

 **Chapter Twelve**

Clint's eyes shot open. His entire body was tight with fear and the vague memory of a nightmare gripped at his head, his heart and for a second he'd felt like he had forgotten how to breathe. His heart beat like a drum in his chest as he winced against the images and sounds that had forced their way to their surface of his consciousness. The air around him was thick and heavy and filled with the echo of the voice that sent chills running through him.

" _Necessary to our victory... blood tested and true...a triumphant legacy…"_

The chilling words lingered. It was Loki, the clear recognition filled Clint with nauseous anger. He sat up, still gasping for breath and swung his legs over the side of the bed in a half attempt to ground himself back into reality. He didn't know what time it was, but it appeared to still be dark out and the sounds he could hear from outside didn't indicate that it was daytime. He sighed and then pushed his face into his hands again. His pulse and breaths began to even out and gradually the shaking began to subside. The physical relief wasn't really doing much inside of his head though. Loki's evil grin was still there, tattooed in his memory, his voice as chilling and terrifying as it had always been.

The words had been said to him in a dark room, Clint couldn't identify where, but he hadn't been the only one there, but he couldn't tell you who they were either. He knew what he had done and knew who they probably were, a bunch of SHIELD enemies that barely needed a push to fight along with Loki, but beyond that, there was nothing. The knowledge sent him further inside his head, ducking under the surface once more, but suddenly a soft touch on his arm brought him back. His attention snapped behind him and Erin's tired gaze met his. Even if it was dark in the room, his eyes could make out the worried expression on her face. She knew what was going on and there was a large amount of comfort in the fact that she didn't ask him to explain it.

He didn't fight it when she gently pulled him back down on the bed or when she laid against him, her head on his shoulder and invited his arm around her. It was a silent comfort and brought more peace to him than any bottle of Jack Daniels had done. Slowly the images in his mind faded and he felt himself settle into comfortable hold she had on him. He breathed her in, closed his eyes and let his fingers stroke the soft fabric of her scrubs. Good memories, only hours old, began to replace the fucked up ones. The two of them making out with each other like they were in high school; Kissing, feeling one another up and overall just enjoying the hell out of the whole moment. He couldn't remember ever doing anything like that before. Since he was 17, if sex had been available, that's what he did. It had probably been available last night too, he didn't go forward into finding out though. Instead he just danced on the line, studying every inch of her body with hands and finding some unparalleled intimacy between their lips. He had slightly regretted the decision when it had taken all of his will power to calm his dick down after, but now after the latest episode of "The Clint Shit Show" he was grateful to have that closeness.

He was grateful to have her and he was fucking glad he had stayed.

* * *

When Clint woke up again it was clearly daytime, but he was alone in the bed. The knowledge was a slight upset, but the sound of the water running in the bathroom brought a bit of the comfort back. He got up, ignoring the pang of hungoverness that always seemed to come after one of those episodes. Rubbing at his face he got some clean clothes and quickly changed. He grabbed his phone off the nightstand and left the room.

The coffee on the counter was fresh and hot and Clint grabbed at the pot, pouring the remaining contents into a mug from the shelf that said "You Go Glen Coco". The shot of caffeine helped push away some of the fog and he took another few gulps to try and rid himself of it completely. He looked around the apartment kind of taking in that "lived in" feeling he admired about the place. It had that whole modern Brooklyn thing going on; brick walls, hardwood floors, but Erin's touch in the rooms made it better, bringing a comfortable normalcy to the place.

He had taken great care in cleaning up the place the night before so his attention immediately went to the pile of textbooks and college lined notebook on the table next to the open Macbook that looked like it had taken a beating or twenty in its lifetime. Was Erin still in school? A more focused glanced over everything made him decide she was apparently crazy enough to add "Graduate School" to her list of daily demands. His respect for the woman multiplied itself by 10. After everything she had gone through and everything she did daily, she was still trying to push herself forward.

The thought was interrupted by the sudden buzz of his phone that he had put on the counter. Once and then twice, the screen lit and indicated the arrival of multiple texts. His jaw clenched, Clint swiped at the screen to see they were from Natasha.

" _Hawk…"_

" _At least let me know that you're alive."_

Clint swallowed back the guilt. He had been doing this shit to her for weeks now and it was probably time he stopped. He still felt like she was trying to sniff him out though and that was the reason he was still hesitating. He wanted to stay under the radar, but talking to her would probably help more. The dreams, visions or whatever were becoming more lucid. He felt like he had the physical strength to handle a good part of it now, but Natasha had better knowledge than he did about Loki, his powers and the world they had come from. Especially now with Thor, the golden muscle God, getting his own Avengers nametag. He knew her too well and was sure she had already pried every ounce of information she could out of Thor while simultaneously inserting herself into some big sister role to keep him in line while he was Earth side. That was Natasha's style. She took care of people, even when they didn't realize it and she would take care of Clint if he let her. She would analyze everything he remembered and solve it in minimal time like a contestant on Jeopardy with a $200 answer.

" _Blood tested and true…and triumphant legacy…"_

Seriously, what the fuck did that even mean? What did that bastard want.

Clint didn't think of himself as dumb, but when it came to anything involving that Asgardian crap literally all he had to go on was the minimal shit they he had been given before he had left for the desert to guard the Tesseract while Dr. Selvig studied it. That information included a folder from Fury and his own witness to the epic of saga of Thor losing his magical hammer a few years prior. Selvig also probably knew more than he did. In fact, judging by the mountains of data he collected every day, Clint was sure he knew more about it than anyone else on the planet. It didn't really hit him until that moment, but Clint hoped that guy was okay too. He had been a slight pain in Clint's ass in the desert simply because he hadn't liked being watched, but he wasn't someone who deserved to have his mind warped by Loki with a magical stone either. So far his forced memories hadn't featured the doctor, but Clint knew he had been there. Coulson had said…

 _Fuck, Coulson…_

"Hey." Clint must have been out of it, because he hadn't even noticed Erin enter the room or get close enough to him that she was able to put a hand on his arm with the sweet word. "You okay?"

"Tired." He forced a smile with the lie.

She didn't believe him, that much was pretty damn obvious, but she smiled back at him anyway. God, she had a beautiful smile, everything just went the fuck out the window she directed it towards him. It warmed him from the heart out and pulled him closer to her. Her hair was washed, freshly dried and that intoxicating cherry blossom scent that he had come to love lingered in the air between them. She was wearing a gray and black quarter sleeved New York Yankees shirt and a worn pair of denim shorts, probably an outfit she had warn around the house for years, but to Clint was the sexiest damn thing he had ever seen. He suddenly wanted to touch her again and the longer he looked at her, the more overwhelming the urge became. She needed to do what she did last night, just cut all the middle man and jump right in for it. That had been amazing and he needed that again. Her sexy ass didn't get the memo though and she was already walking passed him and reaching into the cupboard. He took a hard breath as her amazing legs were put on display in front of him. They were perfectly toned, long and slender and he wanted to throw the damn things around his waist and….

She was looking at him again, probably had said something too, but he obviously hadn't been paying attention. "Huh?"

Erin was holding out one of the two toaster pastries that had come out of the foil packet. "Breakfast?"

Clint took it. Strawberry, plain too. Not a hint of that fake delicious icing. "What no pancakes?"

"No sex, no pancakes." She laughed and popped a piece of the pop-tart into her mouth.

The sly little quip completely broke through his fog and stopped the replay of the Clint Shit Show inside his head, probably her intent. Finding his footing, he feigned indignation, "Wait a damn minute. I don't remember agreeing to that."

She swallowed the bite, leaned against the counter, and smiled. "Get a lawyer if you like, but I think my argument will hold up in court. A satisfactory sexual encounter must be had in order to receive pancakes the next morning. It's in the contract." The quip was so perfectly done, even Erin struggled to hold her amusement in. Clint wasn't going to abandon his ideal breakfast that easily though.

"Oh that's funny to you?" he asked. "Blue Balls is a serious thing, Erin. A very real and painful thing. I barely slept last night."

She faked an apologetic look, her dark blue eyes sparkling at him. "Poor baby, you should have made the move."

"The move? When?"

"I gave you the open." She defended herself with a playful smile "Don't tell me you didn't notice it?" As she said the words she put her arms around his shoulders and gave him a look that was one part sweet and one part seductive. "I did the back arch, wrapped my legs around your waist…remember?"

It was playful flirtation, Clint knew that, but hell if he didn't feel the ties around his heart pull tighter…and his dick fully strain against his jeans.

"We might need to talk about this," he said, moving his hands up her sides. "I don't like to play games."

Erin smiled, pressing herself into him. "You're playing one right now."

Clint feigned a scowl, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Shut up, woman." he got out before his mouth came down on hers, teasing those perfect lips open and letting the surge of heat cover him. Kissing her was definitely his new favorite thing, he could this for hours, fuck he could do it for days. He could do it for the rest of his life…

Clint's thoughts were interrupted by the sudden sound of the Imperial March behind him. He paused and pulled back, remembering the last time he had heard music in his head when kissing Erin. John Williams was definitely an improvement from Nelly, but it was still strange. Erin's expression went from freshly kissed to "Whoops" in a second.

"My phone, it's my dad." She patted his chest, "Hold on, okay?" she dashed to the table where her phone sat next to her books and answered it on the second round of Darth Vader's anthem. He'd never say it aloud, but Clint was somewhat thankful the distraction. His thoughts had begun to drift into an area he wasn't sure he wasn't to be in yet. Kiss Erin for the rest of his life? For fucks sake, that was insane even for him. How long had he known her? Two weeks? You didn't fall for a woman that fast. You didn't think about forever or crave their presence. You didn't flirt with one another over pop tarts and pancakes in the relaxed atmosphere of the kitchen on a summer morning either. You definitely don't do that…

Clint turned and looked at Erin. She was leaning against the white lacquered table, the phone to her ear, the conversation with her dad on the other end of the line fluid and familiar. She smiled when Clint caught her eye and despite what he had just argued in his head, Clint's heart and soul clenched, threw their hands up in surrender and accepted that he was in love in Erin.


	13. Chapter 13

Hey guys! Long time no see! What can I say? School and life have been kicking my butt, but I definitely haven't forgotten about you or my favorite Avenger! Hope you enjoy and seriously a BIG HUGE thanks for all of the support. Those wonderful reviews have really given me the power to push forward with this story, so keep 'em coming!

Chapter Thirteen

 _A few days later…_

Clint kept quiet about the being in love thing. He was damn sure it was real and he was equally certain that Erin wasn't going to blow him off if he said the words out loud, but the time to say it had to be right. It had been a long ass time since he had felt the need to say that to any woman, but that he remembered pretty clearly. Making your feelings known at the right time was probably as important as the words themselves and he wasn't going to fuck that up

That didn't mean he stopped thinking about it though.

Spending day in and day out within her over the next few days convinced him more that he wasn't just dealing with some fluke feeling. She was, in a word, amazing. He learned quickly, being around her, watching her, that she was one of those rare combinations of smart, kind and gorgeous. She was the kind of person others instantly felt at ease around. You didn't have to prove anything to her and she somehow saw the kind of person you were without needing much information to go on. When she talked to you, she didn't just listen, she actually heard what was said. She was efficient too, a fact shown to him as he watched her complete days worth of graduate school homework in a matter of hours and handle the stress of the bar without breaking a sweat. It was both attractive and admirable. If any of those traits were any indication, she was probably a damn good nurse, both in the Air Force and out of it.

The wind blowing off the Hudson that Sunday morning was just about as perfect and comforting as Clint's thoughts of Erin as he walked along side the stone fence that separated the shore from the land at The Battery. Tour boats were loading up at the docks, the passengers excited for their chance to sail by the Statue of Liberty. A band was playing somewhere nearby for the park goers entertainment and the sounds of the city mixed in with the notes of their song. It was a beautiful day really, but Clint's nerves still grated as anticipation built up inside of him. He had said in his text to meet him at the East Coast Memorial before throwing out the burner phone he had picked up at the Walgreens in Brooklyn. He hadn't waited for a reply, but he didn't doubt that the message had been received. He hadn't told Erin where he was going that afternoon either, but it didn't seem to matter. She had just told him to be careful, kissed him and then gone back to the mountain of homework that she had stacked up on the kitchen table. It made his first venture out her apartment in nearly a week pretty anti climatic, which Clint appreciated.

He sat down on the stone steps when he finally reached the large memorial, the view of the bay, wide and open in front of him. He propped his arms up on his knees and adjusted his sunglasses and began to wait. If he knew Natasha, she had already been there for at least an hour, scoping the park and waiting for him to appear. She liked to have the upper hand in that way and Clint was so used to it he just factored it into any kind of plan he had with her. He knew she'd let him sit for a few minutes or so and then make her entrance. And just he predicted, six minutes after he had sat down, she appeared out of thin air and sat down beside him.

Her eyes were also hidden from view by a pair of dark sunglasses and in her black pants and shirt, she blended in like Morticia Adams on Sesame Street. He didn't want to compare, but it was a far cry from the long bohemian teal skirt and white top Erin had been wearing when he had left the apartment earlier. Taking a deep breath, Clint shifted his focus back to the water.

"You're not dead." She finally said, following his line of sight.

"Sorry about that."

"I'm sure I'll push through the disappointment."

"How are things?"

"Fine, what about with you?"

"Can't complain."

And then he lost his steam for the fake banter. His head fell and stared down at the ground. Natasha inched closer to him, her shoulder brushing against his. Being so occupied with the comfort Erin had brought him in the last couple of weeks, Clint felt ashamed to realize he had forgotten about the subtle way that Natasha had to do the same. Her affection wasn't tossed around as if it meant nothing, but when she did give it, it was so strong you didn't really care.

"Are you sleeping?" she asked, breaking his line of thought.

"I try to." Clint glanced up, leaning forward and letting his hands fall, "Nightmares are pretty bad though."

She nodded. "That's normal."

"Yeah, so I keep hearing." Erin reminded him of that often enough. Most recently at about 3:30 that morning when he been ripped from his sleep by his own terrified screams and found himself shaking in fear, dripping in sweat and tangled in the bed sheets. Erin knew what she was talking about, but then again so did Nat...

"You're keeping Fury and company off my trail, aren't you?" He turned to her as he asked the question, catching the hint of a smile on her full red lips. He liked it when he made her break character. It filled him with amusement even now when he was feeling the way he was.

"How did you know?"

"I'm not as good as you, but I have my moments." He swallowed, "Won't be able to do it forever though."

"Anything is possible with the right attitude and Stark's unlimited resources. Cap has also been following me around like a lost golden retriever, so I'm sure I could use that to my advantage too." She leaned in closer, mirroring Clint's own position on the hard steps, "You know this is protocol. Paperwork and investigations happen when someone loses the coffee filters in the break room. It will blow over and I promise I'll make sure that it does. As for everything else, the things you haven't told me, but that I know about anyway, I'm looking into that too."

Before Clint to react to what she said, Natasha was pulling her phone out of her jacket and pushing it towards him. She pulled up a picture that was familiar in that he recognized it as from a SHIELD file. A white male, early 40s stared back at him, his blonde hair cut short and his nearly black eyes shocking against the screen. Clint almost immediately recoiled at the sight of the guy. He had seen him before and the vision that filled his mine was him in a dark room, with Loki by his side. Clint felt his stomach tur and a sudden hammering, painful echo in his mind. He felt himself wince and then push the phone away. The reaction was enough for Natasha to make her conclusion.

"Dr. Anton Beck." She told him. "A German national and Geneticist. Taken into custody three years ago in Berlin for conducting unlawful experiments on human embryos. He escaped in October of last year and was in hiding before you found and pulled him out over a month ago when he began working with Loki. There's been no sign of him since the Battle."

Clint didn't remember any of that, but he knew that coming from Natasha it was the truth. He pulled his sunglasses off, rubbing his eyes against the failure of his memory and the knowledge that he had unleashed that kind of evil on the world. He felt nauseous again. "What the hell would Loki want with a geneticist?"

"I was hoping you could answer that question for me." She said slipping the phone back into her pocket.

Clint tried to push back the nauseous and the headache to grab on to some kind of memory, even a sliver of one, but the effort ended in failure. Around them, the park continued on as if nothing was happening in the center of it and the thought made Clint even more angry for his actions and what Loki had done. Humanity didn't deserve this shit. They weren't perfect by any means, but evil monsters and aliens, brain washed assassins and an evil geneticist wasn't deserved.

"What's your theory?" he then asked, because he knew she had one.

"I don't think the Chitauri were the only weapon that Loki intended to use against us." Typical Nat, she got right to the point. "He was well aware of the Avengers and who we are and I think he was planning a unique strike against us. Beck's experiments involved giving humans almost mutant like traits. Cap's strength, Banner's …skill are serious things to deal with. He would have wanted to fight fire with fire. Loki had you bring him in for something and I don't think it had anything to do with his boyish good looks. He was to create something and he wanted Beck and his knowledge to do it for him."

"That's far fetched to say the least."

"But possible. I have monitors at all central locations keeping an eye out for Beck, but so far they haven't turned up anything."

"Have you told Fury? Anyone?"

"I'm telling you."

"I don't think I'm the kind of person who should be putting your faith in right now."

A sad look passed over Natasha's face and she gently touched his shoulder, "I'll always put my faith in you. We've been through way too much over the years for me not to. You made the call that saved me, Hawk and nothing will ever cancel that out."

Clint felt the strength and comfort that the words intended. He hadn't been with SHIELD long before he was handed the orders to take care of the Russian assassin whose skill at her job was both impressive and frightening. What little they had known about her then was given to Clint and though he had studied it and her movements for weeks, he still wasn't prepared for that night he finally encountered her on a dark street in Madrid. What followed was a story better left in a confidential folder in a locked file cabinet…or a Liam Neeson movie. To this day Clint still didn't know how he managed to get the upperhand and take her down. For her part, Natasha seemed to accept the loss and the idea that he had been ordered to kill her with little hesitation. Clint couldn't say the same for himself. He stared down at her, gun pointed, finger at the trigger, ready to put the bullet through the center of her forehead just like he had been ordered to do, but he couldn't bring himself to push forward with it. He had studied her face, locked eyes with her, and saw beyond the femme fatale persona. He saw the scared seventeen year old that was beneath and he knew in his gut that killing her would be the wrong thing to do. Clint was ashamed to say it now, but up until then he had been very black and white when it came to his work. There was good and there was bad. Natasha made him see the grey. They had intel going back decades on the KGB and he knew exactly what she had been put through. The fact that she had known nothing else but that conditioning just made the gray that much starker to him. And he pulled back and took her into custody.

She was still a bitch to him for a long time after that. There was no build up to their friendship or the connection they had developed. Years went by, trust was established, missions were successfully completed, but there was always that snide attitude from her and that cocky no bullshit attitude from him… and then one day, Clint had looked up and she was as important to him as the arrows he shot with. The two of them could communicate without words and they fluidly moved together like some perfect machine. It made them indispensable, it made them Fury's go-to, it also made them both feel invisible. Maybe Natasha actually was, but it was obvious to Clint that he wasn't. Hard way to learn a lesson…

"You're going to get through this, Hawk." Nat's voice came through the haze of memory, "You'll remember and we'll find Beck and whoever else was involved and everything will be fine."

"Except for the trail of dead bodies I've left behind me, right?" Clint gritted then, her words igniting an anger inside of him. "I remember all of them now. You didn't want me to think about it, but fuck how could I NOT think about it? My own people, good people, people that were just their jobs…Coulson…he's dead because of me!" he turned to her, "You think I'm just going to be able to slide back into SHIELD like nothing ever happened? Do you actually think that's fucking possible? I know what they're thinking, okay? I know the Board and I know those voices at SHIELD, I'm a mad man that needs to be brought in and pay for my crimes. I know that's what they want!"

She didn't deny it. "The people that matter know the truth."

He swung on her "Yeah well the people who have dead friends because of me aren't exactly lacking in the killing skill department, are they?"

"I'm working on it." She maintained her composure, even as the anger flew at her. "You need to trust me."

"Yeah. Yeah, right." He shook his head and stood up. "You saw me." He said down to her, "I'm alive and that's all you wanted to know right?"

Nat stood and lined her gaze up with his, knowing he was on his way out. "Don't ignore my phone calls or my texts. I'm trying to help you and I can't do that if I can't speak to you."

"Fine." He gritted through a tight jaw.

"And if you remember anything else about Beck or Loki-"

Pissed off now, he cut her off. "Yeah, I'll call you! Are we done here?"

She nodded.

Clint opened his mouth to say more, because there was really more to say, but no words came to mind when he did. He realized that all he really wanted then was to get the hell out of there and get back to Brooklyn and back into the warm, comfortable haven that being around Erin gave him.

"I'll be in touch." He finally said and then rested his eyes on her for another brief second before turning and heading out of the park so he could get his ass in a cab and get back to Erin.


	14. Chapter 14

Oh you guys, life has been an absolute bitch for me lately. Finding the time to write has been so hard, but Clint and Erin have never been far from my mind. I hope I still have readers out there and that you enjoy this new (hot and steamy!) chapter!

Chapter Fourteen

It was nearing 3 o'clock. Biting her lip, Erin looked back down at the screen of her iPad and mindlessly moved another piece of candy with her finger. Clint had been gone since lunch and though she had let him leave without any worry as the hours had passed, she had started to get anxious. A thousand different scenarios were running around inside of her mind about why he was taking so long and hardly any of them were good. It didn't help that she didn't know where he had gone. She had a good idea of WHO he was with, but not where they were.

She really hoped her intuition was right though. "Meredith" had kept up with a steady stream of text messages since that night on the subway and though Erin was sure she was holding back, each seemed a bit more desperate for information than the last. It bothered Erin, not in jealous way, but in a way that she understood. The comparison may have been reaching, but she was sure she would feel the exact same way if Brian had suddenly disappeared. It wasn't that that bothered her now though. Even if she didn't have all of the pieces, she couldn't conjure up any degree of jealously towards the girl, no it was the idea that he had run into the same people that had nearly beaten him to death the week before.

Almost like he knew she needed a distraction, a slight knock came on the door to her apartment before it opened and Brian appeared. "Hey." He said and dropped the plastic bag he was carrying on the coffee table. "Where's Clint?"

Erin switched off the iPad. "He had some stuff to do today. Should be back soon." She said the words with a feigned confidence, hoping they informed her as much as they did him. She put the iPad on the coffee table beside the bag. "What's in the bag?"

"Condoms."

Her brow wrinkled in confusion. "Why?"

Brian was in the kitchen now, opening the fridge, and poking his head inside "Because I took some from your nightstand the other day and owe you a refill." He came back up, popping the lid off a container of carrots. "Didn't you notice?"

"Guess not. Sorry."

Brian smirked at the confession and kicked the fridge door shut, diving into the carrots as he came over to sit down in the recliner. "Uh oh," he crunched, "Does that mean you're just relying on the Pill or not doing anything at all? Better be careful, Air Bear." He teased.

Erin propped her feet up on the coffee table, the soft fabric of her maxi skirt clinging to her bare legs and crossed her arms. "Uh huh." She said the words absently, not wanting to throw any ammo at Brian. She didn't have the energy for the teasing right now and she knew he wanted to unleash on her. If she went ahead and said "Oh yeah, we're sleeping together, but not having sex." Brian would have enough to keep him going for at least the next year. Better to just keep him guessing on that one.

But as Brian remained silent, Erin's suspiciousness forced her to cut her gaze in his direction. He was silent because he was inhaling the carrots. "Did you just eat all of that?"

"I'm a growing boy." He defended and got up, heading back to the kitchen. He put the container in the sink and then went into the cupboard, grabbing the loaf of bread. He took four pieces out of the bag before coming back and retaking his place on the chair.

"You're a bottomless pit." Erin said, shaking her head at him. "Go empty your own kitchen."

"Already did it." He swallowed and ripped another piece of bread in half, stuffing it into his mouth. "So despite the lack of sex between you two," he continued on, his mouth full, "Am I referring to Clint as your boyfriend yet? I got to say, I want to. Having him down at the bar this weekend has kept the peace. One icy stare from him is the equivalent of three bouncers." He swallowed. "Some little shit was trying to start something over a girl last night and…did you see it?"

Erin shook her head.

"Well anyway, he had the guy by the neck before I could even react and got him to rethink his dumb decision. If I wasn't already giving him free drinks, I would have started then."

Erin cracked a smile. "Your Bro Crush on him is adorable."

Brian laughed. "So we can keep him?"

"Sure." She said the word with the intent of sarcasm, but it didn't come out that way. It came out as thickly sincere.

Brian didn't seem to notice the tone though and instead gave her leg a playful kick. "Then you'd better start putting out."

"Do you ever think we're too comfortable around one another?"

"Nah. Hey, are you still leaving on Thursday?"

"Yep." She nodded. Air National Guard training weekend. She would be up at Hancock Field in Syracuse from Thursday to Sunday night. For the first time in a long time, she didn't want to go. When she had brought the subject up the day before, she had told Clint he could stay at the apartment while she was gone. She didn't want him to think that she was going back on her word to let him stay there with her, and though he had agreed and she felt confident that he did feel welcome, she still didn't like the idea of not being around for several days. Damn it, now she had something else eating at her…

"Well since you're going to be needing my babysitting services again, I'm going to have to charge you." Brian quipped, totally glazing over Erin's anxiety…as usual. "Sign for the delivery down stairs?"

"Right now? Why can't you?"

"Because I'm hungry and I'm going to get a pizza." He stood and grabbed her arm. 'Come on."

* * *

Signing for a beer delivery wasn't complicated or time consuming, but it was enough to distract Erin for a few minutes. She checked off the boxes as they were brought in and then logged the information into the computer in the office before the guy in charge brought her the form to sign. She had done it a thousand times before, but the guy that was waiting for her to sign was unfamiliar.

"Did you just start?" she asked, implying the job as she looped her 'E' and swooped on the double "t's".

"It is my first week." He nodded.

He had an accent, German it sounded like. Erin had done a few TDY's in Germany and thought of herself as passably proficient in the language, she didn't say that though. She wasn't the kind of person to call attention to that with someone she had just met. Instead she smiled and handed the clipboard back to him.

"They are a great company to work for, I hope you enjoy it."

"Thank you." He replied stiffly, putting the clipboard under his arm. He was silent for a moment and seemed to take in the room. The small office had changed little since a partial remodel in the 1970s. Wood panels walls, a greenish indoor/outdoor carpet and a desk made of Scandinavian teak. About the only thing that gave away the current year was the HP computer that Erin's uncle had bought new the year before. Shelves behind her were lined with old account binders and pictures that had been taken and cherished over the years and the delivery guy seemed intrigued by it all. In a move that instantly made Erin feel a bit uncomfortable he took two steps towards the shelf near the door. He looked down at a group of the photographs and then back at her. "You favor your grandmother."

"What?" Erin felt her body seize at the question. She looked quickly from him to the photographs and saw a picture taken of her grandmother, probably in the early 1950s with her dad and uncle in front of a fireplace. The two boys were probably 5 or 6 and were dressed the same, making their status as identical twins even more prominent. She had been told often enough in her life that she looked like her grandmother and it was a compliment because the woman was gorgeous. Even in an old photograph that was slightly out of focus, you could see how pretty she was. Never before had the comparison caused a chill to run down her spine though. She had to force herself to smile at the compliment,

"Thank you."

"And your cousin, he favors your grandfather."

Erin quickly looked back to the photographs, seeing only a shot of Brian in grade school and none of her grandfather. That comparison was one she hadn't heard before, regardless though, she was desperate to end the uncomfortable conversation. "I'll tell him that. Thank you, you probably have other deliveries to make today."

The man nodded. Erin noticed then that his shirt didn't have a nametag yet. He adjusted his hat before walking out of the office and Erin felt an instant relaxation as he disappeared from sight. She could hear the back door shut firmly behind him and once she was sure that he had left she went to the door and made sure it was locked. With that moment of clarity hitting her, she felt an instant embarrassment over feeling the way she had. Just because someone noticed a resemblance between her and a photo of her grandmother when they were basically the same age? Worrying about Clint must have really warped her mind.

* * *

After the odd moment with the delivery guy that she had pushed far back into her mind to avoid anymore self embarrassment, Erin had gone upstairs and in the still empty apartment, made herself a bagel, spread some cream cheese over it and called it dinner. She ate on the couch, turned _The Office_ on Netflix and kept an ear out for Clint. As the hours passed and she heard the normal weeknight sounds from downstairs, she began to worry over Clint even more. She itched to pick up her phone and call him or even Natasha, but decided against it each and every time.

At 9:30 she put her plate in the dishwasher and turned on the dishwasher. At 9:33, she got into the shower. At 9:50 she got out, dried her hair and put on a tank top and a pair of red faded pajama pants printed with penguins. At 10:15, she realized she hadn't killed as much time as she thought would, fought against picking up her phone again and laid down in her dark bedroom.

He was fine, she told herself. He was a big, tough superhero assassin. He was like Jason Bourne, he could take care of himself if anything went wrong…but there was nothing wrong. He just needed to talk to his friend and clear the air. That was it. She wasn't going to bother him and act like some needy girlfriend. Nope. He was fine. He would be back soon.

She fell asleep with that thought on her mind.

At 12:34 a noise from the bathroom woke her. A quick scan through the darkness told her she was alone in the bedroom, but the faint strip of light coming from the crack of the bathroom door told her she was no longer alone in the apartment. Erin rose, hollow apprehension settling in her stomach. As she walked towards the bathroom, she could hear the shower running. Reaching the door, she only nudged it to move slightly more open.

"Clint?" she said just enough to be heard over the stream of water.

There was no answer.

Not bothering to knock, Erin peered all the way around the door. The shower curtain hadn't been closed, but Clint was there, under the spray, still fully clothed, his head bent down against the falling water, his arms bracing his weight against the tiled wall. The only light on was the weak one above the shower itself. It cast shadows down Clint's frozen form, hiding his expression and forcing Erin to gather herself before she completed the move towards him.

"Hey." She broke through the silence in a soft tone, her hand coming to rest on his shoulder, the shirt underneath wet and wrinkled.

He took a deep breath in silent acknowledgement, opened his eyes and then squinted against an invisible force. "I don't know how I got here."

"That's okay." She told him, relaxing at the sound of his voice.

"I felt hot and I could hear…" he shook his head, a darker shadow seeming to pass over him.

The sight of it hit Erin directly in the heart and she was quick to pull him back before he fell back into the abyss. "Stay with me," she said, "Just stay with me."

He breathed heavily, his brow furrowed into intensity, but when he suddenly turned and focused on her it pushed Erin even harder to fight along with him.

"It's okay." She calmed him, her voice dropping to a whisper "I'm right here okay. I won't let you go."

Erin embraced Clint fully as she said those words of comfort, ignoring the spray of the shower and stepped into the tub beside him. She was quickly just as soaked through as he was, but her words had been a promise. She wasn't going to let him go. She gave him a gentle push up and stepped in front of him, bringing his gaze to focus on hers. She repeated the words, her hands cupping his cheeks, trying to bring his full attention on her.

This was worse than the last time, it wasn't hard to see that. She wanted to do more. Her hands held on, caressing his cheeks, her fingers softly brushing against his cropped hair. His teeth clenched and a pained groan escaped through his lips. His eyes squinted shut and she could feel him slipping from her, but as she struggled to find a way to pull him back, his hands suddenly sprang up and gripped her arms. As his fingers dug into her wet skin, she could feel him fight the force and pull himself up again. His eyes snapped back open and he took a huge gulp of air, swallowing in hard mouthfuls.

"Fuck." He breathed and half collapsed against her, burying his face in her neck, his arms falling to circle around her waist. Relieved and gulping for her own breaths, Erin's hands remained, slipping around to caress his neck in comfort. They held one another tight for a long time, standing in her shower, under a stream of hot water to void the quiet. When he broke apart from her, it was only enough to look at her for a brief moment and then press his forehead against hers.

His breaths struggled to even out and she continued to hold him close and let him calm down. As he slowly began to settle, he pulled her tighter against him and let his lips brush against her wet skin. The sensations sent tingles down Erin's spine. Her eyes closed and she focused on the feel of his lips, the hushed spray of the shower and the feeling of the hot water pouring down their bodies. It didn't even register to her how quickly the moment changed around them, she was just suddenly there and ready for it to happen.

Clint's lips became firm, covering the column on her neck and then down her shoulder before he finally found her lips. She tingled as his hunger for her took him over. He pulled up on her soaking wet shirt, yanking it off and throwing it onto the bathroom floor before turning her against the wall and cupping her breasts in his strong hands. He bent down, sucking in one tip and then the other, his tongue circling sinfully around the nipples. Erin's moans rose over the soft patter of the spray of the shower and Clint increased his intensity. Erin took all she could before it became too much. Driven by lust and desire, she pulled at his shirt, ripping the wet fabric from his body and sending it to join hers on the floor. Through some clever maneuvering his jeans were soon there as well, and she was kicking off her own wet bottoms.

"You're so fucking beautiful." He said as his eyes moved over her.

It was on the tip of her tongue to repeat the words back to him, but Clint didn't waste a moment of silence between them. He kissed her again, pressing her now naked body against the cool tile of the shower. He moved between her legs, parting her with his fingers. A moan escaped from both of their lips as he dipped one and then another inside of her. Erin had to bite her tongue to keep from screaming out loud. He teased her with lazy movements, his lips and tongue still firm on hers. The stimulations were a sweet torture and almost too much to bear. Her moans and gasps brought a smile to his lips and a burning desire to his eyes.

"Do you want me to stop?"

Unable to form words, Erin shook her head fast, the threat making the orgasm build faster inside of her. Clint took the hint, his fingers pressed harder, his movements more calculated. Only a few seconds more and Erin finally felt the wave wash over her. Her hands reached out, grabbing for him as her body shook and the pleasure sent her writhing. How he managed to keep up his movements, was any guess to her, but the gesture was more than appreciated.

Filled with emotion, Erin pulled him close as soon as she regained control, her legs wrapping around him, allowing herself to be pushed up the slick tile. It was pure heaven as he slipped inside of her, hot, hard and thick. He thrust in, inching in further and further until he was buried deep inside of her. Both moaned their pleasure to the steamy air, gripping hard to one another as they found their rhythm and rocked back and forth. The fire was reigniting inside of Erin, already building up hotter and stronger than the previous one. Everything inside of her was humming with pleasure, scorching hot and intense.

Clint's own pleasure shown through Erin's haze. Even with the shower pouring down on them from above, sweat was beading on his forehead as his expression was set in one of strong determination. He grunted and moaned as he thrust inside of her. His hands moved over her body, pinching and caressing, his mouth bit and licked inciting cries from her mouth that she was sure someone in Manhattan could hear. When his hand moved between them, tugging on the tight bundle of nerves between her thighs, she finally came undone. She screamed and then heard his own growl follow, the orgasms rippled through their bodies as if they were one.

When they came back down, panting, and dizzy, they still clung to one another, reveling in the intensity of the act. Clint kissed her through his uneven breaths, cupping her face with a strong hand. When he pulled back, his eyes were intense and focused on hers. His thumb stroked softly against her cheek and the shower of water around them was suddenly soft and melodic.

"I love you." He told her, just barely above a whisper.

She didn't even have to think before replying, "I love you too."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

Clint felt that he should be congratulated or maybe even awarded a medal for the way he managed to block the entire file folder of bad shit in his brain over the next few days. It was very out of character for him to put any kind of threat, especially to his life and well-being, aside, but after he had woken up on Monday morning, Erin sleeping beside him, her hair still damp from the shower, he made a promise to himself that he wasn't going to think about anything but her for the foreseeable future. Probably not the wisest choice, in fact he definitely would have given anyone else hell for making the same decision, but he argued that this thing with Erin was too awesome not to acknowledge and embrace. For the first time in his life he had a woman in his life that not only loved him, but simply "got it". He didn't have to hold anything back from her (He still did, but he didn't HAVE to and that made a fucking difference). The few weeks that he had known her somehow seemed like long comfortable years of a relationship and it made every moment around her warm and unobtrusive. She worried and he knew that. She worried about the initial shit from Loki and his determination to stay away from SHIELD and she worried about that lost gap in time that he still couldn't explain after meeting Natasha on Sunday, but she comforted rather than lectured. Maybe she didn't know what to say? Clint wasn't sure that he would either if the roles were reversed, but he didn't argue with what she did with her silence.

Over the next few days, Clint felt for the first time in years, maybe even in his life, a relaxing ease. The problems were still there, the threats and the questions, but Erin was stronger than all of that. He allowed himself to feel human around her and embraced the simple happiness that came with that. Doing things like hanging out at the bar, being included with the banter she exchanged with Brian, being introduced to customers that both considered friends, locking themselves in the bar office and making out on the top of the ancient desk like they were hormonal teenagers. It all added to the surreal experience.

Her leaving on Thursday was never far from Clint's mind though and the closer they got to the day, the harder it became to ignore. Shortly after five in the afternoon on Thursday, she pulled her suitcase out of the closet and began to pack. Sitting there and watching her fold up a pair of ABU's (the official Air Force uniform), socks and t-shirts, Clint decided he needed one final hurrah before she left. He got up from the bed and pulled her to him without warning, kissing her hard. Within a second her body melted against his and his was pulling her shirt off and pushing her down on the bed.

* * *

Her breaths were still uneven, her body shivering when Clint had made his way back up, grazing his lips across her body on the way. His kissed her neck, basking in the satisfaction of the orgasms he had given her.

Erin's laugh was breathless and sexy when he reached her. "You look way too pleased with yourself."

He kissed her neck and murmured his agreement into her damp skin.

"Maybe the arrows aren't your superpower?" she teased.

He smiled against her skin "Maybe." Trading in _Hawkeye_ for _Fucking Sex God_ wasn't a bad idea.

He slid a hand down as he spoke, positioning himself and giving a gentle push on her inner thighs. He lined himself up and pushed in just enough so that he could lean forward and brace his weight on his arms. As much as they had done this in the last few days, feeling her under him was still an unbelievable turn on. It was so hot even knowing how perfectly she fit against him.

Clint tilted his hips and rocked into her, slowly stretching her, keeping his eyes on her the entire time. The amusement from before faded from her lips and they slowly spread into a sexy part and her soft moans filled the room. He released his weight and bent down, moving his lips up and down her neck, leaving hot kisses all the way. As soon as he was fully inside of her, he pulled back up to look in her eyes. He felt that spark between them and immediately surged with increased momentum. He grabbed her right leg and push it up, angling her hips into his and thrusting harder.

"Oh God!" Erin's scream filled the room. Her hands flew to his shoulders and her nails dug into his skin, "Clint," she said his name, the last syllable trailing off as the pleasure took her over.

 _Fuck, she felt so good._ Clint buried his head into the crook of her neck, feeling his hot breath against her heated skin. He didn't want to stop, he wanted everything he could get, but going all night, he knew he didn't have it in him to go much longer. He needed to make her come again and he wanted it to be with him. A sweat broke out along his brow as he pumped faster now with determination. He needed to get her off with him, it was all he could think of then and just as he was about to lose it, she began to tremble under him. A cry of pleasure broke through her lips and her nails dug into his back.

With renewed enthusiasm Clint thrust his hips, still deep inside of her, with shallow pumps until he felt himself follow her lead. A release washed through him in waves and he finally let out a breath, taking in the moment of her holding him tightly inside of her as he pulsed and erupted deep within her. When he finally lifted his head to look up at her, he felt sated.

Erin's eyes locked on him as they both attempted to catch their breath.

"Are you sure you want to leave this?" He asked, bringing the light tone back between them.

"Don't tempt me." She laughed.

"It's a hell of a lot more fun than Air Force training."

She smiled and pulled him down for a kiss. "Shut up."

He knew she'd be back Sunday night, but the thought of the next few days without her still stung.

They lingered for a few minutes longer in the bed, Clint reluctant to let her get up, but eventually he did. He even suppressed the urge to follow her into the shower, another thing he deserved a medal for, and dressed instead, heading out to the kitchen to get a drink and let her finish getting ready in peace.

Grabbing a bottle of coke from the fridge, Clint walked took in the quiet apartment for a moment, unsure of what to do with the lack of distractions that had kept him sane for the last few days. He wandered around, taking in the digital clock on the stove, noting that it was two minutes slow against the clock in the living room that read 6:32 and made a mental note to fix it when Erin was gone.

There was some comfort in knowing she was cool with him staying there while she was gone. It felt good to be trusted and to be cared about, but he was unsure how he was going to handle all of that time by himself with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company. Brian told him he was welcome to follow him around and help at the bar, but Clint knew he could only do so much down there and hell if he knew if he could make it through a shift of sitting at the bar waiting to bus a table or break up a fight without losing his mind and going all Fucked Up Clint on someone. He didn't trust himself. He trusted Erin's presence to keep him on the right track, but alone? Fuck, no way.

Taking a sip of the coke, Clint sat himself down on the couch and reached for the phone that he had left on the coffee table. Natasha had sent him a few texts over the last few days, checking in. If she suspected anything had happened after their meeting she hadn't let on and Clint was happy to keep up the rouse that everything was a-ok on his end. Fortunately she hadn't sent him anything since he had last checked that morning, but the thought of her sent him to his browser and though he hesitated for a second, he soon found himself thinking about what had been discussed that day at the park and typed in "Anton Beck".

He remembered the guy. He had to admit that to himself. He had definitely been with Loki when Clint had, but the details, just like with everything else, were lacking. Google brought up the stories and articles approved to release to the public, but Clint wasn't asking for anything more than that in his search. He got the general idea about the guy, but the question of why he was even involved in an alien's world domination attempt still confused him.

The guy had started out doing things that Clint didn't find exactly moral, but nothing illegal. Manipulating eye and hair color, things like that. Clint didn't identify as being super conservative about most things, but deciding what your offspring looked like was just wrong to him. He felt that if the genetic lottery gave your kid red hair and freckles you should be thankful and start stocking up on the sunscreen that they would probably need with that fair complexion.

Beck had been on a team in Europe that had researched cloning in the early 2000s, but after that shit had gone south and he had advanced on to experimenting on stolen human embryos. No live births had come out of what he had done apparently, but his attempts to manipulate physical and mental traits on what in Clint's mind were human children, sickened him and he had to put the phone down as his stomach turned with what he had read. His mind however, fixated on it and soon it was connecting with his memories.

" _Necessary to our victory...blood tested and true...triumphant legacy…"_

The broken, chilling words of Loki's stuck in his mind. " _...Blood tested and true."_ Was that what he needed Beck for? Loki spoke like some Shakespearean villain and blood could be an evil poetic way to refer to other things; like DNA, genetics...family….

Was Natasha right about thinking that Loki had been attempting to fight against them with more than just the Chitauri? Had he been planning to use someone's family against them? The theory was plausible, but Clint knew the Avengers file inside and out and all of them were essentially loners when it came to that area. Cap had been alone long before he had ever been given the serum, Stark's parents were dead, no siblings, Banner, Natasha and himself were all the same. It made no sense unless Loki really wanted to push that far back into a family tree and end up with a fourth cousin twice removed. The guy was a sinister fuck who had wanted to divide and conquer the team and getting into that frame of mind to where he could solve this puzzle would be hard for Clint, even with all of the experience he had over the years with other sinister fucks. It was clear to him though, that his memory and the knowledge that Beck was involved with Loki's plan were strongly connected. The issue was though that even though Loki had been defeated and was now securely incarcerated on Asgard, Beck was still out there and there was nothing to say that he had stopped doing what Loki had recruited him to do.

Knowing that Natasha had the same suspicions, Clint could only hope that her efforts to locate him were successful. Some areas of the world were harder to watch than others. It wasn't difficult to find a place to hide if you really wanted to. Even in the United States, one of the most watched countries in the world, you could be hiding in plain sight and still avoid detection, it just took skill. The last month of Clint's life was proof of that. There were some things that would make this guy stand out though. The accent for one-

 _Accent._

 _German accent._

 _Shit._

The guys that had broken into his hotel room that night, they had been German. Clint had been too distracted to really place it at the time. He had guessed Eastern European then, right area, but not nearly specific enough. To be fair, he had been distracted on multiple fronts that night, but now the memory of their voices and the awareness of this new information, both could have been working for Beck and had been sent to kill Clint on his orders.

" _We were sent to give you a message."_

" _Your skills and knowledge are valued, but our boss has little patience for your games. Come with us or die." they had told him._

Skills and knowledge…

Skills was clear enough, but knowledge? Loki had shared a lot with him. Again the specifics weren't clear, but Clint felt as much in his gut that he had been party to most, if not all of the grand plan. Clint had helped build an army of anti SHIELD soldiers. He had killed his colleagues and almost taken out the helicarrier. Even brain washed Clint knew he wouldn't do any of those things without knowing the reason why. He didn't remember it, but the reason was in his mind somewhere along with all of the other missing memories and he was now certain that Beck was the one who wanted them.

"Beck wants me dead because I won't help him continue Loki's plan." he whispered the words to the room, knowing that hearing the thought would solidify the truth in his mind. What plan though? Whose family is he going after? What is he going to do to them?

 _He needed to tell Nat…_

"Hey," Erin's voice came through, sweet and unsuspecting, "I think I'm ready to go."

Clint's hand had been halfway back to his phone, but hearing her voice he stopped fast and looked up. She was wearing her uniform, the captain bars embroidered into the lapels, "Sutton" and "US Air Force" also perfectly threaded into the pockets. Her hat was folded and stuffed into the pocket like it should be, her hair tastefully pulled back and her combat boots tightly laced. It was weird to see her camo'd out and for a moment Clint was both impressed and distracted.

"You look great."

She chuckled, "Thanks, but that wasn't really what I was going for. Do you still want to go the train station with me?"

"Yeah." he got up. His thoughts were still heavy on his mind, but his rational reasoning was also flaring up to. If this shit was true, it made the danger he was in all the more clear and the knowledge that Erin was involved made it more desperate. Her leaving town was probably the best thing for her safety at that moment. It wasn't ideal of course. Watching her himself would have been, but that wasn't really an option. He had to remember that she was going to a military base too. It was a secure area, one that required proper identification to enter. Besides, it wasn't as if she knew anything and it was Clint that Beck wanted, not her. If she was out of the way, she was safe.

Clint looked at Erin and forced a relaxed look, "Let me get my shoes on and I'll get a cab."

He moved to walk by her, but her hand came out and softly landed on his arm to stop him. Her eyes focused on his. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, fine."

"Are you lying to me?"

"I just don't want you to go." he said the half truth and then kissed her.

She smiled, but there was no denying the uncertainty in it. "Okay."

Clint kissed her again for good measure and then went to into the bedroom to get his shoes. It wasn't good to know that someone out there wanted him dead on top of everything else he was dealing with, he had known that for awhile now, but knowing the reason and more importantly _who_ it was shined a clear light on things and boosted his strength and optimism. He had always fought hard before, but knowing that he now had someone _to fight for_ made a bigger impact that he could have fathomed.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

Odd as it was to say, the stiff camouflage fabric of her uniform and the baggy cut that hung around her body, made Erin feel more secure. She couldn't explain why, but she had her theories. It signaled her inclusion in a strong military force, it stereotyped honor and bravery, two things that she doubted she possessed a lot of the time, but if that was what others chose to see then so be it. Whatever it was, it did give her a sense of strength and that was something she needed at that moment. Entering Atlantic Terminal with Clint, her stomach churned and her head pounded with this sickening apprehension that honestly frightened her. What made it even worse was that the feeling was a stark contrast to how the last few days had been.

Erin took off her hat as she entered the building, per uniform regs and swept a loose hair behind her ear, desperately trying to focus on yesterday and the days before when the two of them had still be lost in some honeymoonish-like euphoria, unable to handle a moment without the other, not wasting a chance to show any type of affection and going at it like rabbits whenever they had the energy. She hated feeling the way that she did right then. She tried to reason that the feeling was probably a combination of fear and guilt. Fear of returning to duty, even if it only was for the weekend and guilt over leaving Clint when, despite what he wanted her to believe, was still pretty fragile.

It was more than that though and she knew damn well it was.

"Got your ticket?" Clint asked next to her.

Nodding, Erin pulled the printed information out of the front pocket of her bag that he carried for her. She gave it to him because he held his hand out for it and then let him lead her to the desk where she was promptly checked in and pointed to the escalators that would take her down to the track. She'd made the trip a thousand times. She didn't need to be told where to go, but she didn't say so, just gave a silent nod to the woman behind the counter with two inch long purple fingernails.

Her head seemed to pound more with every step she took.

Finally, the guy she was in love with was hit with a sense of, well, sense and took her arm, pulling her off to the side of the terminal, into a quiet corner with a set of coca cola vending machines to keep them company.

"It's going to be fine," he told her, leaning in close. "I promise."

"I'm being a stupid female." she told him in a light voice, not wanting to discuss it. "Blame it on hormones and all that."

He laughed a short ripple, "Don't try that with me. You're perfectly fucking reasonable and we both know it. Look, "he took her hands in his, "Neither of us are going to pretend that aliens, brainwashing, assassins, superheroes and top secret government agencies haven't played center stage in us coming together, okay? It would be stupid to do that and since we know you're smart, you're not going to do that, right? Be scared, Erin. Be nervous too. Fuck I am, but I'm still going to promise that it's going to be okay. It's going to be okay because I have you and you have me."

It wasn't an instant fix. Clint's declaration had to sit in the air between them for a moment before Erin felt she had truly grasped what he saying. Then not even a second later, she felt the calm come over her. A very odd kind of calm, but one nonetheless.

Clint's eyes were on her, watching her expression. He must have taken his own comfort in it, because he still held her there and continued.

"For the longest time, Erin, I didn't have anyone. The last few weeks with you have changed that though. I don't want to give up anymore, I want to fight. I want to be the best person I can be because you deserve to have the best of me." the words he spoke mirrored the sentiment that was already in his eyes. "Before all of this, I was good at what I did, but now that I have you and I have something to actually fight for, I'm going to be even better."

Erin struggled with the emotions his words gave her. Her heart shook and she knew there were tears forming in her eyes, but she wasn't going to let them fall. Quickly she brushed them back and took a deep breath. "What are you going to do?"

"What I'm good at." he said after a long moment and followed it with a confident smile.

"And you'll be here when I get back?"

"I promise."

This was insane. Over the next few days, his clear intent was to act like the action hero he was, doing everything he could to settle this bullshit for good. If that included committing a few felonies, she knew he wouldn't hesitate. But they were talking like he was going to retile the bathroom and put up shelves in the living room while she was out of town. This is what life was going to be with him. She didn't have to ask the question if things would ever change, because the odds were basically against it. At some point, if she stayed, all of this would become normal to her. What he did, where he went, what he saw and who he was with were all going to be well out of the realm of what she considered normal. Maybe there would always be a hidden danger and she would never know the meaning of true safety. She would always be aware, worried and scared... 

The realization was brutal, but for some crazy reason, it didn't push her away. Instead it pushed her forward and she pulled herself close to him. Arms around his shoulders she held him close, closed her eyes and remembered the love she had for him. It was new and raw, but it was love and there was no denying that.

When she pulled back, she smiled her most normal smile. "Okay, 11:35 Sunday night."

"I'll be here with a big welcome sign and flowers." he teased before leaning in and giving her a final kiss.

It was after midnight when Erin finally arrived at the base. The trip itself hadn't been long. In an effort to keep herself from losing her mind with worry, she had put in her earbuds and listened to _Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_ on her iPhone. Jim Dale's voice had soothed her nerves and she had even slept for an hour or so, but after arriving in Syracuse she found that the van coming from the base to pick her and two other Guardsmen up was running behind so she had been forced to hang out in the train station for another couple of hours, forcing conversation with the two Lieutenants she didn't know.

She had sent a text to both Clint and Brian telling them that she had arrived safely and then another to her parents. Only her dad had replied back, telling her to have fun "in the wild blue yonder". She tried not to let the lack of replies from first two bother her though. Brian was working a shift at the bar and Clint was probably down there with him. Brian had also told her he would keep an eye on him before she had left earlier. It wasn't exactly a secure or comforting thought, but having someone back there at least a tiny bit aware of the situation looking out for Clint helped.

Her and the two LT's had been given rooms at a the inn on base and after she had checked in, Erin pulled her ID out and used it to log onto one of the government computers in the lobby so she could check her email and get her itinerary for the weekend. She found what she needed right away, clicked on it and skimmed the contents. Show time for her was 0700 at the clinic. She was also flight training at 1300 which would require her to come back here and change into her flight suit as fast as she could before attempting to find the right squadron she would be taking off from.

Awesome.

With the thought of exhaustion now on her mind, she got her things and headed to her room. An airman in uniform passed her coming out of the elevator and gave her a clumsy salute that she returned as well as she could as she struggled with her suitcase and backpack. Once the doors were closed, she pulled out her phone again to see if any texts had come in that she hadn't heard. There was nothing though. Sighing, she pressed the button for the fourth floor, let the doors close and let herself get carried up in silence.

Gathering her things up as the doors opened, she slipped out of the elevator and began to walk down the hallway to locate her room. The strong fluorescence lights were doing nothing to help the headache that she still had after all of these hours and step by step her luggage was growing heavier. By the time she reached her room and dug her key card out to unlock the door she was no longer thinking of Clint or Brian and was instead picturing herself falling fully clothed onto the bed and passing out until her alarm went off.

She opened the door into the dark room and pulled the suitcase in. Letting herself in, she shrugged off her bag and let it fall to the floor before she pushing the door shut behind her. Within a second of its closing click, she felt a strong hand come over her mouth and a needle being shoved into her arm. There was no time to react before the world went completely black around her.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

Clint felt the emptiness Erin's departure had left as soon as she got on the escalator and descended down to the train platform. Even in the crowded open area of Atlantic Transit he felt the loneliness hit him like an eighteen wheeler going 80 mph down an interstate and his initial reaction was to go after her and convince her to go AWOL for him. The plan wasn't a terrible one. Find some tropical paradise to get lost in, build a hut out of bamboo or something and live off of coconuts and bananas for the rest of their lives. Unfortunately the rational side of his brain kicked in before any of that could be done. Instead he walked away and turned on his inner monologue. He left and walked out into the now dark city, letting the gears in his head turn on his thoughts and occupy the space Erin had left.

He needed to think. He needed to sort everything out.

He thought about everything that had happened and attempted to bring up every detail he had forgotten from those days under Loki's control. He walked and walked, feeling more confident with every step that his suspicions were right, but still not knowing how to go about proving it. Nat would know though and with her so close to Stark and SHIELD she had the better advantage of accessing the information he would need to prove it all.

When he got back to Sutton's he found the place all but dead on that Thursday night which he guess wasn't out of the ordinary. The physical bar itself was empty, every stool free. Brian stood behind it, his phone in his hand, tapping a bored thumb against the screen while the only customers in the room chatted over their beers at the back table. He hadn't noticed Clint and deciding to seize that opportunity, Clint took a departure from his thoughts and thumped the bar hard with his fist, scaring the hell out of the guy.

Brian jumped, almost dropping his phone and then shooting a murderous look at Clint when he realized who he was.

"Fuck, man," he said, "Don't sneak up on people like that. You never know who opted out of the insurance on their cell plan."

Still amused, Clint slid into an empty stool. "What were you looking at? A text from another girl who's name you can't remember?"

"Ha, no. I learned my lesson after the last experience." he did chuckle at the suggestion though. "Erin get on the train all right?"

Clint nodded. "Yeah. Not before reminding me when to pick her up on Sunday though."

Clint left out the other parts of their good-bye, but Brian didn't press for any details. "Yeah, that sounds about right." he replied. "Things between you are getting pretty serious huh?" he said that last part with a smirk.

"Is that okay?" Clint asked, suddenly conscious of Brian's approval.

Brian looked semi amused by the question. "Fine by me. I'm not my Uncle Rob or Aunt Jackie though. They'll be a little harder to contend with."

"It's been awhile since I've met a girls parents." Clint admitted. "Awhile" was probably even stretching it. "Never" was probably more likely because he sure as hell couldn't remember ever being involved enough with a girl for her to bring him home.

"They're cool, it's just she's their only kid, ya know? And she's their daughter on top of that. I'm not saying they're old fashioned or anything, but they're a lot different with her than my folks are with me and our dads are twins."

"I didn't know that."

"Yep, identical. Different as hell personality wise. Dad was good to stick around here and run the bar after Grandpa retired, but Uncle Rob was more of the adventurous and heroic type. Went to Vietnam, was a firefighter for thirty years, but I guess there's a few things about them that are the same. They were both in their thirties before they finally settled down and got married."

"As someone in their thirties, I don't see anything wrong with that." Clint grinned.

Brian laughed. "Me either! The longer I only have to keep myself alive, the better."

As he said that, the couple at the table, the only two people besides them in the bar, got up and came over to the bar to close out their tab. Brian took the cash handed over, counted out the change and accepted the tip that was given back. As soon as the doors shut behind them, Brian grabbed two beers and shot one across the counter to Clint.

He popped the lid on his and took a sip. "What are your plans this weekend? Erin wants me to babysit you, you know that right?"

"I've got a few ideas." Clint replied before he took a drink from his own bottle.

"If it's anything other than sitting on my couch and playing _Call of Duty_ we have a problem."

Behind Clint, the doors to the bar opened again. Brian looked up from their beers and conversation to acknowledge the customers. "Hey guys, what can I get you?"

Sixteen years of training suddenly flooded Clint's senses. There was an unusual pause in conversation, a glimmer of some kind of uncertain and suspicious thought in Brian's eyes and an overwhelming sense of danger from Clint's gut that sent the hair on his arm up and the adrenaline flowing from his core. He didn't need to see, he could feel the four men behind him, he could hear the click of the guns attached to their bodies, he only needed to react. Words flowed, choked, from Brian's mouth, but Clint was already turning and knocking bodies to the floor. Jumping to his feet, he pulled one of the guns he had grabbed earlier from the bedroom, one of the two he had on him and did a count, two down, two already on him with their weapons. He didn't recognize them, but they had "goon" written all over them.

They were clearly outnumbered, with both bodies and weapons, and knowing he needed to cover his back, Clint quickly jumped back on the stool and over the counter, grabbing Brian's arm and dragging him back to the wall as the poor kid sputtered in confusion and fear. He kept his gun up and facing the assholes the entire time, a talent honed to perfection over the years that no one ever gave him any credit for.

"You guys have really shitty timing you know that?" he stated the words knowing their effect. Clint was the fucking Michael Jordan of distracting conversation. "Just dropped my girl off and was looking forward to a weekend of video game with boy here, but no you guys have to show up and start up some trouble."

"Agent Barton," grinned one, "You have a bad habit of always being in the way." His clearly German accent was thick and vaguely familiar, but Clint was the one in charge of the distraction now, not this asshole who looked like a cross between Tokka and Rahzar from the Ninja Turtles movie.

"I know right?" he sneered at them, "No one is ever happy to see me, except for Brian here. You like me right, man?"

Brian was shaking too hard to comprehend or respond to Clint. His eyes were locked on the two guns pointed at them. He was a shitty replacement for Nat. Still though, he needed a partner and kept hold of Brian's arm he completed their journey to the back wall and made sure to position them with Brian's arm behind Clint

"Can't say that I blame him," the goon replied, "Now be a good boy and let us have him."

 _They wanted Brian?_

"You cheating on me, Brian? With these guys? C'mon man, I thought we were closer than that."

Brian, still shaking and speechless, slowly turned to face Clint. Apparently the knowledge that they wanted him had a sobering effect. Thankful to finally have his attention, Clint nudged him again, making sure he could feel the second gun that was strapped to Clint's waist. The movement of his eyes told Clint, silently and quickly, that he understood and with incredible speed and agility for an untrained civilian he pulled the gun out and flicked off the safety.

"Nice, man." Clint tossed out the compliment, "Looks like _Call of Duty_ has taught you a thing or two."

Brian remained silent, but Clint had to hand it to him, his gun was fixed correctly on a target and there seemed to be some surgence of bravery stirring up inside of him. His spare hand now free, Clint's hand was free to find the phone in his back pocket and doing the familiar press and swipe that would call Nat and let her zero in on his location and what was going on. The reaction and movements took mere seconds, Clint was impressed with himself for pulling it off with poor Brian by his side.

"Put it down." one of the goon's spoke up, looking directly at Brian. "You don't stand a chance."

Brian gulped, but to his credit he didn't stand down.

"There you go boys, he made his choice. Go find someone else to play with."

The head goon sneered down at Clint. "We're not walking away empty handed this time."

The two that hadn't spoken yet were suddenly on them, Clint's reaction shot was off by a half second, but poor Brian didn't even get a chance to pull his trigger. Clint fell down to the floor and shot again, hearing the bullet pierce through skin and a pained shout from his attacker. Another shot was fired in the struggle, but it wasn't from Clint's gun. Clint fought and kicked, pushing the injured guy off of him and throwing him down. He threw a punch and knocked the guy out cold against the hard tile floor. Then another was on him, pulling him back and shoving him against the bar. Around him, Clint heard glass shatter. Four shots were fired off again, this time at Clint, who somehow moved fast through the shower of bullets and avoided being hit.

"Brian!" he got out before the asshole that had thrown him was on him again. Clint took the opportunity to knock the gun out of the guys hand, but still had his fists to contend with. He dodged one punch, a second and a third and then got in a swing of his own, connect to the guys jaw.

"Get the fuck off of me!" Brian's voice came out.

More shots were fired. This time though, Clint wasn't fast enough to avoid them. One flashed by his ear, he could hear its painful echo, but the second hit him right in the arm. He had never liked being shot. Nothing good ever came from it and it was pretty fucking painful, as evidenced by the scream of pain he let out that echoed throughout the bar. He fell to the ground, losing his gun. The piece of shit with that had shot him saw him down and was quick to seize his moment, coming at him with the weapon pointed out ready to finish the job. Then another shot, and there was a sudden spurt of red shooting from the guys neck like Ol' Faithful. He was down within seconds. Clint gasped through the pain and the shock and gripped the bottom of the bar as he looked over to the source of the kill shot.

Brian's gun was out and still pointed, shock painted over his face over what he had just done.

At any other moment Clint probably would have tried to comfort the guy, but within a second of focusing on him, he had been tackled down to the ground by one of the two goons still up.

There was a quick silent exchange between Clint and Brian then, one that Clint would never be able to fully explain. Brian, strangled on the ground, flung his gun across the tile floor, hitting Clint's hand with perfect accuracy. Clint grabbed the weapon, picked it up and pulled the trigger, finishing the third guy off with a shot right to the chest.

His heart hammered in his own chest and his arm throbbing, Clint turned his focus on Brian, but the blood less from the wound on his arm was starting to affect him. He was beginning to lose his grip on consciousness and weakness overtook him. The gun fell from his hand. He was covered in blood and he was sure that was all the last asshole saw as he struggled with Brian. It was the leader, the one that had engaged in Clint's conversation first and he seemed more than pleased with the way things had gone.

"You can make this easy or hard," he told Brian while sneering at Clint, "Make it hard though and your cousin will be the one that pays, not you."

Brian suddenly stopped. His gaze locked on Clint's as if he was looking for approval for giving up. Clint could only nod and digest the information in his hazy state.

 _They had Erin._

The knowledge hit him hard in the heart and in his soul. And then In a sudden push, his mind seemed to focus on the forgotten memories that had evaded him for so long. Loki's face solidified through the dark fog _._

" _The soldier possesses a great strength, his weakness is found in his heart, in his memories and they will counteract both. The grandchildren of his brother in battle, the one who showed incredible strength against the experiments, these grandchildren of James Buchanan Barnes are the only way to take down the Soldier. They are necessary to our victory. Their blood is tested and true...Agent Barton, I need the Sutton's and when the time is right you will bring them to me. Dr. Beck will bring out their hidden power and give us the weapon that will take down the Soldier."_

The realization of what had culminated over the last few weeks was finally clear to Clint. His brain was piecing itself together like a puzzle, anxious to put all of the memories and knowledge back where they belonged and even through the haze, Clint could clearly make out the picture that was forming.

All of this, everything that had happened since The Battle and even before had been about leading Beck to Erin and Brian so they could be used as weapons against Cap…

 _James Buchanan Barnes...Bucky Barnes..._

 _His grandchildren…_

And with that final thought, everything went black.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

 _Eleven Years Earlier_

 _September 11, 2001_

The television had been on all day. In some homes maybe that was normal, but it wasn't at her grandmother's. Erin could feel the unease of the world all around her, but it had reached its peak intensity as she sat on the couch and absorbed the fact that such a normal, tiny aspect of her life had been interrupted. Her grandmother sat close, her aged hands gripping the remote as her wide eyes stayed fixed on the television screen. Neither had said much at all in the last few hours. There was nothing to say. There was too much around them. The air in the apartment was thick with the fear that so many across the world were feeling and in Bushwick, only ten miles from where it all happened, the emotion was suffocating. The view from the roof was stark and terrifying. Erin's heart broke knowing that the nineteen years of memories she had in her grandmother's house would be permanently eclipsed by the events of that day.

That Tuesday had begun like the one before it. Erin made the trip from campus to her grandmother's, taking advantage of her late class schedule that day to help the older woman do some chores around the house. She had arrived a little after 8:30. At 78 years old, Connie Sutton was an early riser and still independent and healthy, but the more intensive chores were beginning to be too much for her. Erin thought nothing of helping her out and neither did the other members of the family. Her father and uncle were there during their off hours, her mom and aunt too and Brian of course when he wasn't terrorizing the halls of George Washington High School.

Erin had gone to the kitchen when she came in. Calling out to her grandmother that she had arrived, she put her backpack on the turquoise Formica and chrome table and stuffed her disc-men and headphones into the front pocket. The coffee in the pot was fresh and she poured herself a mug. Since starting college a few weeks before, she had come to appreciate the caffeinated bit of heaven. She took the first sip, just as her grandmother walked in from the back porch with Andy, the golden retriever, close at her heels. He came to Erin as soon as he saw her, a wide canine grin on his face, jumping up for some love and attention. She barely managed to put her coffee down before he did so, but it was a welcome interaction. She loved that dog just as much as he loved her.

"Good morning, sweetheart." Grandma had said, pulling Erin in for a hug and kiss on the cheek. "You're here early."

"Caught the earlier train," Erin said rubbing one of Andy's ears, "What's on the agenda for the day?"

"The yard is in need of some attention, but I think we both need some coffee while we fold the laundry in the living room first."

Erin smiled. Never more than a small woman, her grandmother had the ability to take over and govern any situation with her personality alone. Erin loved that about her, even when she was a victim of it. It was probably because she saw that trait in herself. She had always been told she resembled her Grandma in looks, but she was much more proud of the fact that she did in personality as well. She went back to the coffee pot and poured one out for the older woman, handing it to her and then following her into the living room with Andy at their heels. They each settled down on the sofa as her grandmother turned on _Good Morning America_ and then reached for the basket of clean towels on the coffee table.

The television was just background noise for a long while. Erin folded towels, drank her coffee and brought her grandma up to speed on what had happened to her in the last week. She was adjusting to college, she told her, but it was still a lot to take in. Her grandma had assured her that all changes take time to get used to, but that it was normal to feel overwhelmed in the meantime. Erin had agreed, but she silently admitted that she would give anything to go back to the year before when life and high school had been a lot simpler. As they chatted, the breeze from the open window in the living room brought in a rumble of distant thunder. Erin heard it, but it was not something that immediately stuck out to her so she finished the towel in her hands, tri-folding it down and then reached for another.

It was Grandma Connie who paused and took in the sound for what it had truly been. She seemed to know something was wrong, that some great disturbance and intrusion had taken place. Erin would later reason that her grandmother's experiences in the war (she had been an Army Nurse) had had something to do with that. After her first tour in Iraq a few years later, Erin had felt her own senses reach a new level of awareness and reasoned that she must have felt, to some existent, what Grandma Connie had at that moment.

In her memories of that day, Erin's mind would scramble the time, especially at that crucial moment. She remembered the towels, she remembered her grandmother's gaze out the window, she remembered Andy's dog toy squeak as he chewed on it in the corner, but the first solid, completely clear memory she had of September 11, 2001, was Diane Sawyer's voice on the television.

"...We just got a report in that there has been some sort of explosion at the World Trade Center in New York City."

Her grandmother's hands clutched to her chest and Erin heard her own breath catch in her throat. No one knew any details then, both Diane Sawyer and Charles Gibson said that over and over again, but the truth of it was already in the atmosphere. It wasn't just a fire, it wasn't an accident, it was a true act of evil…

Neither of them said much after that moment.

From the roof of the apartment building, with so many others, they watched the scene from across the river. They saw the smoke billowing from the tower, they saw the second plane strike its twin in silent shock.

They watched one and then the other fall. It was terrifying and surreal.

And so close. The sight of it was one thing, the scent and the smoke brought them to the hellish level of that moment in history.

Then the phone call.

The caller ID displayed a familiar number, her mother's cell phone, and Erin could remember picking it up mid-ring. Her mother's voice was level and calm as she asked Erin about her and her grandmother. She was on her way to them, but it might take her a while to get there. She told them Uncle Frank had shut down Sutton's and him and Aunt Pat were going to get Brian from the high school before coming to them. Then…

"Your dad is over there."

Erin's heart had dropped at the words.

Her father's long career as a firefighter had presented more than one dangerous moment over the years. His station was just down the street though and going across the bridge from Brooklyn into Manhattan was almost unheard of. It showed the severity of the situation in a new light to Erin's innocent perspective. She told herself she was 19 years old. She was too old to burst into hysterics over the fear she was feeling and she knew she couldn't let that kind of thing happen in front of her grandmother, but the fear ached and rolled inside of her chest anyway.

"I had to tell you," her mom's voice broke over the silence, "But don't say anything to your grandmother, Frank will tell her when he gets there."

Erin didn't need the reason for that explained. Her grandfather's death a year and a half ago was something her grandmother had only recently began to recover from. Watching him succumb to cancer had been hard on the whole family, but it had been especially hard for the woman who had spent over half of her life with him. Telling her that her son was one of the many emergency workers at the epicenter of the chaos at the World Trade Center could break her. Erin promised her mother she wouldn't say anything and had reluctantly hung up the phone after hearing the line break.

For the next few hours, she held in her fears and said nothing. She let the TV fill the silence and sat with her grandma, watching the footage and increasing her fear as the news about Pennsylvania and the Pentagon broke.

It was close to 4 pm when her aunt, uncle, and cousin finally made it to her grandmother's house. Erin was in the kitchen putting a kettle on the stove for tea when she heard the front door open. There was an immediate sense of relief in the atmosphere and as the voices broke in the living room, Erin abandoned the tea and went towards it. Brian, with his frosted tips and baggy jeans, looked every bit the punk rocker he aspired to be then, but he had come over to her and pulled her into a sweet hug the moment she had come into the room.

Aunt Pat and Uncle Frank, pale and somber, had sat down on the couch with Grandma Connie, Pat putting her arms around the old woman and Frank holding his mother's hand. He didn't waste time in breaking the news about his identical twin to her, telling her in a soft, level voice that he had gone to the site with the rest of his department and would be in touch with them when he could. Erin took in the words, sinking next to Brian who at 16 was already taller than she was and felt her heart break anew as she watched her grandma absorb what Frank was telling her.

She asked questions. Erin couldn't remember the words she had spoken exactly, but she had pressed Frank for details and Frank being Frank, had been straight with her and told her what he knew. "Rob called me right after the second tower was hit to tell me they were on their way down there."

Grandma had gone silent then, staring away from her son.

Frank looked around the room, his eyes focusing on his wife, his son, and Erin before he had turned back to her. "Mom, they need his help."

"They needed your father's help too…" her voice quivered with unshed tears. "And I can't...I can't lose your brother the same way I lost him." At that, she had burst into tears and collapsed into Aunt Pat's embrace.

Those words sat with Erin for a long time. Even feeling the way she did at that moment and the thousand other places her mind was, they hadn't made sense. Brian hadn't seemed to pick up on it, neither had his mom or dad for that matter, but for Erin, they glared brightly.

Her father had been safe. He had come home to them later that night, embraced into the family fold of safety and love, still covered in the dust and rubble of Ground Zero. Erin's focus on him and the drastic changes to her life that took place in the wake of September 11, 2001, were always at the forefront of her mind, but those words that her grandmother had spoken that night had remained, echoing against it all.

Though Erin couldn't tell you the exact day, it was some months later that the right moment to voice her questions about it had finally seemed to present itself. Her dad and a few of his friends from the station, all of whom she had grown up around and treated her like their own daughter, had gathered at Sutton's for a quiet game of poker one night.

The games were somewhat of a tradition, taking place at least once a week since before Erin could remember, but what was once a fun night of drinks and jokes was now solemn and quiet. It had been one of those unintended victims of 9/11, an effect that you didn't realize had been possible until it had happened. They still played cards, they still ordered their beers, but it was more of an escape than anything else now. An escape from the pain of what they had experienced and what they had lost…

She said goodbye to each of the men as they had left and then gone to help her dad clean up the chips and put the decks of cards back into the boxes. The two were silent, but in the background, Creedence Clearwater Revival had begun playing on the jukebox, one of the last songs chosen with the handful of coins put into the machine a half hour before.

" _Someone told me long ago_

 _There's a calm before the storm_

 _I know it's been comin' for some time_

 _When it's over so they say_

It'll rain a sunny day…"

"Dad…"

He looked up at her, his handsome face as tired and drawn as it had been since that day, still offered that same care and devotion he had always given his only child. He could sense the shift of the emotion in the room and for that Erin was grateful.

"What is it, kiddo?"

Erin fell silent for a moment. Her gaze shifted down to the stack of cards in her hands. She sank down into the nearest chair and released a breath. Following her lead, her father had come and sat in the one next to her.

"Something has been on your mind," he observed, telling her that despite her long silence, he had known there was something she had wanted to say.

Erin had nodded, comforted by the fact that even though so much had changed about him, there was still something that had remained. She took another moment to get the words right in her mind though, a task that wasn't at all easy. Finally…

"Grandma said something that day…" she swallowed, "When we found out you were down there and...I haven't been able to get it out my head."

Next to her Dad had nodded. "Frank told me. I was wondering when you were going to bring it up."

Erin had remembered the relief flooding through her at that moment, thankful that she didn't have to repeat it, grateful that she wouldn't be delivering a blow to him that he wouldn't have been prepared for. Despite that though, she still needed to say the words out loud and she knew she did.

"Grandpa wasn't..." but the question wouldn't complete itself.

Her father, her lifelong protector was quick to swoop in for the rescue though. "Mine and Frank's natural father, no he wasn't." he delivered the strong altering words in a calm tone. "We've known that for a long time. Since we were about your age actually."

"You have?"

He nodded and sat back in his chair, "It wasn't the dramatic blow that you might be thinking it was though. I think we both suspected it for the first eighteen or so years of our lives. We didn't really look like him and there were other things, but it was still a pretty big pill to swallow. You probably already understand that though."

Erin nodded quietly.

"Mom told us," he continued, "Just a sad simple story of falling in love with a guy from the neighborhood, getting pregnant and him dying in the war. She wasn't the first girl it happened to and she won't be the last, but back then, you know how things were. You didn't just go on with your life, there was no support and your grandma would have been doomed to a pretty bad existence if your grandpa hadn't come into the picture."

Erin was smart enough to realize that, even if her knowledge on the subject of single mother's in the 1940's was anyone near contemporary. Her questions remained though and the most obvious couldn't help but come out.

"Do you know who he was?"

"No," her Dad had shaken his head, "I don't. He and your grandma were sweethearts. He went into the Army, she followed by becoming a nurse and they met up again at some point in England during the war. She got pregnant, but he had died before she could tell him. That's all we were told."

"Did you ask? I mean I-did you want to know or….? I just don't understand...you could have family out there that you don't even know about." Erin could feel the confusion ignite within her. "Dad, there so much unanswered and you're fine with that?"

"I wouldn't say that. " he hesitated for a moment, considering his words. "Kiddo, I'm going to tell you okay? You'll learn as you go through life that things like that, those mysteries, those questions and those what if's won't always be answered. You won't like it, but you'll accept that it has to be that. Life is not nearly as black and white as we want it to be. Right now, you're younger than you think are. You have had only a taste of what life has in store for you. You're going to experience things that you would never expect or can't possibly fathom at this moment. Some of it will be great, some of it won't and some of it is going to be downright terrifying.

"You will navigate your way through it, making wrong turns, going backward and forwards and even when you reach my age you'll still question whether you did the right thing. That's what I learned from your grandpa. He raised your Uncle Frank and me to know that life is a chaotic mess, but that no matter what point you're at, whatever issue might be happening then, that there will always be those little reminders around that will give you the strength to get through it.

Her father had reached for her hand then and gave it a squeeze. "Your mother got me through a lot and you, over the years you've given me a strength that's unrivaled to anything else. I believe Frank and I did that for your grandmother too and your grandpa did the same that your mother did for me. For all of that love and loss, she still had something worth living for and in the end, that's what matters. That's all that matters."

The words her father spoke were so final and so complete that every question about this mysterious grandfather that was left unsaid in Erin's mind suddenly didn't need to be spoken. She had loved her grandfather. She held every memory of him close to her heart and knew that at no point in her time with him had she ever questioned his love for her. She connected that thought to her father's words, _"...in the end, that's what matters. That's all that matters."_ and felt the acceptance come over her…

* * *

The sound of a heavy door slamming snapped Erin's eyes open. The vivid memory forgotten, her entire body jerked against the sound and the vibration that stung throughout the small room she was in. There was a pounding pain in her head, every limb she possessed ached and throbbed and pushed her to move, to sit up from the reclined position she was in, but feeling the uncomfortable restraints attached to her wrists and ankles, she knew that wasn't possible.

The room she was in was lit with harsh fluorescent lights that made her eyes burn under their glare, but she pushed through, determined to see where she was and push away at least some of the uncertain fear that hung around her.

It didn't work. If anything the surroundings that came into focus made it all worse.

The room was small and only emphasized the claustrophobic feeling she had upon awakening. The walls around her were concrete and tall, no windows, just dark and blank. The floor was also concrete, matching the walls so perfectly you could hardly tell where one ended and the other began. Medical equipment was beside her old hospital bed reading her vitals and projecting them onto the monitor. From the IV pump, tubes trailed to her arm, hooked into her and flooding her veins with some unidentified liquid.

Harsh hopelessness coursed through her then and Erin felt the tears come to her dry eyes. She was trapped and as much as she tried to focus, she still felt a solid haze of confusion stick around her. The restraints made trying to escape hard, but the weakness she now felt would have made it impossible.

She realized then she was no longer in her uniform. It had been stripped away at some point while she had been unconscious and she now wore a black tank top and sweatpants. She prayed to God that her clothes were the only thing that had been touched while she had been out…

At the thought her stomach clenched and her blood went cold.

A thick black fog began to form around her as the thoughts began to overwhelm her mind. The fear was too much and she knew it with a stark clarity. At that moment her head wasn't capable of making sense of her situation or why she was there. She felt safe in that darkness and eagerly went to it, but it was with the thought of Clint fixed clear in her consciousness. She wouldn't let go of him, because somewhere inside of her she knew he wouldn't let go of her either.


End file.
